


cause all that you are is all that i'll ever need

by Wankerville



Series: strawberry milk fic [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ALL THE GOOD STUFF, AU, Ableism, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blowjobs, Bottom!Harry, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Exhibitionism, Feminization, Fingering, Fluff, Food Play, M/M, Nipple Play, Panty Kink, Rimming, Smut, Spanking, Trigger Warning: past rape/abuse, but hey louis does get some bum action too, gagging, idek, ot5 roadtrip er'body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:45:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 128,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wankerville/pseuds/Wankerville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strawberry milk layers their upper lips, and they giggle and lick it off of each other. They taste it in each others mouths when they kiss; it's on their tongues, and filling their tummies. There are seven cartoons in the fridge, with 1 out that they keep pouring into <em>shot</em> glasses. They give each other a ‘cheers!’ and tip it down their throats. Instead of burning their mouths, it wipes away the sting that is already inside of them. </p><p>(Harry still has days when he needs to feel good on the inside. Louis can see it in his eyes, and on these days, Louis needs it too. Maybe just as much.)</p><p>or the strawberry milk sequel; where harry still needs help, louis' trying to give it to him, liam rents a van, zayns a bit protective of his best mate, and nialls there to tie it all together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. we are surrounded by all these lies (and people who talk too much)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [cause all that you are is all that i'll ever need](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4595706) by [malishka1011](https://archiveofourown.org/users/malishka1011/pseuds/malishka1011)



> ~~ PLEASE READ THIS NOTE ~~
> 
> 1\. harry is not genderqueer in the fanfic. he is CIS male. i support all those who are genderqueer but i just want everyone to know that's not the case in this fic. harry is just a boy who likes pretty things (including louis.)  
> 2\. there are TRIGGERS !!! like major, major triggers, so pls pLS read with caution.  
> 3\. pants mean underwear for those who dont know. they dont wear two pairs of like jeans, they got their jeans, then their pants.  
> 4\. sorry for any and all mistakes !!
> 
> 5\. happy reading bubs :)
> 
> tumblr: wankerville  
> snapchat: wankerville

**i.**

There is this warm place between the soft hums of bolsters and the fluttering eyelashes of laughter that Louis likes to call home. It is filled with delicate touches, light colours, and sweet smells that wrap around him, constantly murmuring that this is exactly where he is supposed to be. It's chocolate curls, creamy skin, and lips like strawberry milk.

Harry's soft curls are tickling his neck and his head is heavy against Louis' chest. Faint breaths brush over his collarbones, his pretty boy sleeping soundly beside him. Harry’s legs are tucked in and tangled with his own, and the blankets are supple to their skin. Louis watches him sleep; his eyelids flit, his nose twitches, and a little noise slips from his mouth and into the early morning air.

Louis smiles, runs his thumb over the boy's cheek, and shifts so he is on his side and can pull him in closer.

(He kisses his lips softly, even though they are cracked.

There is no symbolism in it, just love.)

 

 

**ii.**

“Harry!”

Louis wiggles against the circle rug that covers Harry’s bedroom, only in his pants as Harry, who is laughing contently above him, straddles him. His hands trail down Louis' sides, pinching here and there, making him spit out giggles with tinted cheeks and crinkles by his eyes. Harry is laughing too; his mouth wide open, dimples caving deep holes into his cheeks as he presses closer to Louis, feeling him squirm beneath him. Louis can turn his head against the floor and peek under Harry's bed; he sees a crown and a sparkly dildo tucked carefully under, almost like Harry is trying to hide them. Louis feels his stomach swoop with dejection at the cinch thought, but he ignores it, not wanting to make Harry uncomfortable by questioning him on it.

“Say you're sorry!” Harry urges above him, sneaking his hands under Louis’ armpits to make Louis look back up at him.

A loud howl of laughter pours from Louis' open mouth, and he yells out, “Never!”

Harry pets at his side again, giggling above him with bright eyes that reflects back into his own in vibrant ribbons of golden elation.

 _God_ , he is so in love.

Despite Harry being the personification of a soft, glowing star in the distance, Louis can’t help but to quickly grab Harry’s waist to roll them over, so he is the one on top. He grabs Harry’s wrists, pinning him down as his lips curve in a smirk and he cocks an eyebrow. He can't help it, has always preferred the top.

It flashes quickly, but Louis catches it. He catches the way Harry's eyes widen, and his eyebrows line, and his cheeks turn white.

(He’s scared.)

Louis' smirk fades as he swallows his hurt, loosening his grip on Harry's wrists before completely dropping them to his side, retracting his hands to himself. He smiles weakly, the silence of the room biting at his skin, crawling into his bones, making him feel a strange sort of weakness that sits in his throat, choking him, making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin.

Harry laughs below him reassuringly, though, cheeks returning to their natural pink colour. He smiles encouragingly, so Louis returns it. Long fingers are trailing up his arms and Harry’s thumbs rub over the inside of his elbows - they both know. Louis lightly trails his fingers over Harry’s side, making quiet giggles fall from the boy's lips as he leans down, kissing him so gently it takes both of their breath away.

“M’sorry, m’sorry, m’so sorry, baby.” It’s tender and careful, and maybe he is apologising for taking the last apple slice from Harry's plate and then running from him, or maybe it is for anything and everything.

(Louis never wants to be the reason he flinches, he never wants to remind Harry of _him_. Not even for a split second.)

Reassurance is Harry’s hands moving up his arms to his shoulders, gripping them lightly and pulling him closer. Harry kisses Louis with his lips already parted, licking into his mouth with fervour, letting one of his hands move down his back, pushing Louis down so they are flush against each other; breathing trust and love and _'it’s okay'_ against each other’s cheeks.

Louis moans into Harry's mouth, stomach fluttering in a way only Harry can cause. They kiss each other nice and sensually; their heads tilting slowly, letting small noises fall against each other’s lips, lapping indolently into each other’s mouths like they have all the time in the world.

They don't. Louis has a class in 45 minutes, and Harry has to go to work at the library in an hour and a half.

But sometimes, in these specific moments, it feels like they have forever. It feels like it’s only them, simultaneously the smallest and biggest things in the universe, but just them.

Louis pulls away first, opening his eyes and waiting to see Harry’s eyes flicker open, before: “Wash my hair while I suck you off?”

Harry snorts, but pushes Louis up.

(Louis is on his knees, water and soap dripping down the curve of his spine as he hollows his cheeks and swallows around Harry with the most obscene of sucking noises filling the hot air around them. Small, soft moans fall from Harry’s lips, slowly rocking his hips as he lathers the tea-tree mint shampoo into Louis’ hair, tugging softly and scratching lightly into his scalp to make Louis moan around his cock. He wipes away any shampoo that drips down his forehead, and Louis’ eyes are wide and glossy staring up at him.

Harry comes down Louis’ throat with a low gasp and Louis swallows it all, getting up only to press Harry into the tiling on the wall and to lick into his mouth.

Rows and rows of body washes still line the tub, the counter, and are in the wastebasket. Louis is trying to pretend like it doesn't bother him when he kisses down Harry's neck.)

 

**iii.**

Trust Niall to find middle ground during the horrid end-of-the-year finals.

Despite the fact that he is the one carrying more amount of pressure on his back for finals than the rest of the boys combined, he still manages to make a day to drag the rest of them all out to a bar to get plastered. He even offers to pay for all of their drinks with his saved up refund money, as long as it gets them all together in the same place again. It’s just been hard lately, they’ve all been so busy, studying and wrapped up in someone else.

Harry is clad in his usual tight black jeans, a white dip shirt, and Louis is carefully tying a red and blue headscarf around his head. He tucks, shifts, and tugs some curls free and Harry looks just like a doll. Louis kisses his nose, and then his cheeks, then his lips, and then they're on the bed and Harry is tugging on Louis’ marvel t-shirt and unzipping his jeans with his nails painted black and, well, Harry ends up having to change from his risqué red thong to his dark-blue laced cheekies.

They show up at the bar with glossy eyes, flushed cheeks, and red lips. Harry still looks like a doll though, and Louis kisses his nose again before stepping into the round booth where Niall, Liam, and Zayn sit. Liam’s arm is draped over Zayn’s shoulder, and one of Zayn’s hands is on Liam’s thigh. Louis sits next to Niall, Harry sitting on the outer-edge of the booth. Zayn sips on the drink he has already ordered, giving Louis a blank once-over, sparing Harry a simple glance and then returning his attention to Louis.

“Haven't been home in a while, mate.”

Louis shifts, resting his knee against Harry's whilst smiling up at him. “Staying with my boy.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, unaffected. The jut of his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek is obvious to Louis, and Zayn says to him, “Just don’t want you to forget about us.”  

Louis’ throat tightens. He swallows, feeling an unsettling amount of confusion gathering on his tongue. Liam looks to Zayn, digging his nails into his shoulder. It could easily come off as a joke, but Louis knows, and Liam knows, that Zayn isn't joking. He clears the ominous feeling with a cough into his fist, forcing a tight smile. “As if I could ever forget a bunch of twats like you.”

Harry’s hand finds his under the table eventually, engulfing Louis' much smaller hand, but fitting it so perfectly nonetheless. Louis can feel his heart fluttering, the overwhelming feeling that is Harry enveloping around him. Louis gives Harry's hand a gentle squeeze in return, before the waitress is coming and taking any new orders.

(Louis bites back a grin when Harry orders a strawberry daiquiri, because, _of course_.)

“So," Louis drags out, taking a sip from his beer, "what are your guys’ plans for the summer?”

Niall groans, and Liam claps, and Zayn simply smiles.

“Believe it or not," Niall starts whilst shaking his head, "more fucking classes. Gotta buy another huge arse law book and everything.” He takes a long drag from his drink to emphasize his obvious distress, and Liam laughs at him.

“Why’d’ya even wanna be a lawyer, mate?”

“Oi! Ni’s gonna make a great arse lawyer,” Louis says, kicking Liam from under the table, “even better lawyer if he took all my cases for free.” He throws Niall a wink, and in return Niall puckers his lips, sending smoochie noises his way.

“Anything for you, darling,” Niall purrs in his Irish accent.

Somewhere in the midst of Liam gagging and Niall laughing, Harry leans over, grazing his lips over Louis’ ear, murmuring, “Mine.”

Louis feels his chest tighten- tighten with the staggering feeling that is Harry's breath ghosting over his neck before pulling away, his sweet, gentle smell, the way his cheeks are pink from a blush he caused himself. He is overwhelmed because all he wants to do is snog Harry into a deep abeyance. But he can’t, so he just tightens his grip on Harry's hand, letting him know that what he is doing is definitely working.

“Why you so happy all of a sudden, Tommo,” Niall asks, furrowing his eyebrows with a small smile, “was it my smackeroos?”

“Curly here probably promised him a good one.” Liam laughs, waggling his eyebrows and making Harry turn an even brighter shade of red.

Louis doesn't know why his jaw is clenching, and why all of a sudden he feels like everything in him is being slowly torn apart- it’s just- Harry and- _no_.

They haven't- they've never had sex before. They give each other blowies and sloppy handjobs, and sometimes Harry will let Louis open him up nice and slow, with his tongue, fingers, dildo, until he’s panting ' _Louis, Louis_ ' and coming over his stomach. That is it, though. That is all Louis needs, and Harry is just- he can’t, not yet.

Louis smiles on apishly sweet though, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s hand. “Contrary to popular belief, there’s more to a relationship than constantly dry humping each other.”

Niall snorts into his drink, pointing at Zayn and Liam.

Liam rolls his eyes, tilting his head back to the side towards Zayn, who licks over his mouth dirtily, making Liam growl at him.

“Disgusting,” Louis murmurs into Harry's shoulder, shaking his head at the sight.

“Anyway,” Liam starts again, pulling away from his needy Zayn in over-excitement, “back to what we’re doing over the summer,” he pauses, smiling big, “I got the temp job at the hospital!”

Niall claps, pretending to wipe away fake tears, and Zayn leans over and kisses his cheek, already knowing.

Harry claps as well in congratulations, but laughs quietly under his breath as he leans toward Louis, “We gonna buy them nurse role playing outfits now?”

Louis snorts into his hand, nodding in agreement, “Cheeky.”

“At least one of us gots ourselves a summer they wanted,” Niall replies with a pout, “What’re you doing Zaynie boy?”

Zayn sets his drink down, scratching at the scruff on his jawline. “Preparing for the end of the summer art show at Westfield. Speaking of, I was wonderin-

“Fuck you, you stupid slut!” There is a crash and some shattering. They look back to see a man being pulled back by other, much larger men, getting thrown out of the bar with other casual lookers watching.

The man looks too drunk for his own good, scruff and scraggly hair, a proper mess really. Louis stops watching though, because he can feel Harry’s leg start to bounce next to his, and can feel his nails dig into the skin on his hand. His cheeks are white, skin cooling, and Louis gently rubs over Harry's thumb with his own. He quickly and carefully slides Harry over his lap and onto the other side of him, so Harry is sitting on the inside of the round booth next to Niall. Louis wraps his arm around him, pulling him close to his side. It’s so quiet and quick and personal- this bubble that surrounds them.

Louis leans up and whispers, “Hey, I got you,” and gently kisses his temple.

Harry nods, looking down at his lap as Niall clears his throat, looking away, “You alright, Lou, H?”

Louis reluctantly looks to Niall and nods with a small smile, before returning his gaze to Harry.

Louis wonders briefly what his mates are thinking, what thoughts are running through their minds because Louis knows they have never seen him like this. So gentle with someone, so quick to defend Harry even if it’s only with a witty comeback, a switch in seats.

(He remembers his ex, how their relationship was a mix of making fun of each other and eye rolls. It was so different, they could get drunk, high, whatever together. They were reckless, not worrying about each other in the way Louis worries for Harry now. A slight flinch and Louis feels his thick resolve of strength just melting away. It weakens him; and it’s not the worry that is doing it.)

“So, what I was saying,” Zayn starts again, blinking from the sight of Louis and Harry, “is that I was wondering if you guys would like to come to the art show?”

Liam says ‘Course,’ and Niall ‘Wouldn't miss it for the world.’

“What about you, Louis? And Harry can come too.”

Louis nods ‘yes,’ as if Zayn’s art shows aren't the only time during the summer all of their families get together again.

His arm is wrapped and clung to Harry’s waist, thumb rubbing soft circles into his side. It feels like his skin is peeling off, turning into sawdust, burning, burning. It hurts so bad knowing that this was Harry's life before - still is in some ways.

Liam sits forward a bit, plastering a smile to his face, "Well, what are you doing this summer, Lou?"

Louis shrugs, still staring at Harry.  "Eh, looking for a summer job."

"Oh, cool," Liam replies simply with a nod, "what about Curly, here?"

Harry freezes and Louis can feel this emotion swelling in Harry because it transfers to himself. Louis answer for him. "Working, baking, letting his boyfriend take him on dates."

Liam awes quietly, fondness pooling over his face as he stares at the two. Louis leans back up to Harry's ear, murmuring, "You're okay, right baby?"

Harry nods silently, not looking up from where his hands are fumbling in his lap.

After a moment, Niall coughs into his fist and Louis knows that he is making this awkward because he used to be this loud, vibrant person. The one who loved to be the life of the party, to be the centre of all the attention. He craved all of that; the attention, the buzz, but now, it is Harry. He craves Harry’s attention, he craves every single atom that makes up who Harry is, what he is. All the laminins that adheres to his cells; he is beautiful, and Louis gets more of a thrill out of a single kiss from Harry then he does from a drink, two, three, eight.

“Well shite, let’s quit all this talk about school and summer, I am ready to start getting plastered. Who’s up for shot compo?” Niall looks around hopefully, eyes landing on Louis because they had always made the best team.

Louis simpers, but shakes his head ‘no.’ The club is darker than he realised before; the bass thrums loudly making the room shake. There are people everywhere, drunk and loud and bumping into each other. He subconsciously pulls Harry closer and breathes into his neck, mouthing a gentle kiss to the skin below his ear. He can taste the fear on Harry’s skin and all he wants to do is lick it away.

Harry’s leg is still bouncing when Niall pouts and Zayn scoffs, “We’ll go with ya.”

Louis raises his eyebrows at the tone of Zayn's voice, ignoring the sadness that spreads through his veins when Zayn rolls his eyes and steps out of the booth. Liam and Niall follow him with little waves thrown back to them as they walk to the bar. Niall turns back around, throwing his fists into the air, yelling out a loud chant and patting both Liam and Zayn’s back as they reach the bar.

Louis smiles, shaking his head. He lolls back to Harry, happy to see that Harry is already staring at him. He has an uneasy face, though, that makes Louis frown. He squeezes Harry’s hand despite the chill it sends down his spine.

“You could have - I mean, if you wanted- I wouldn't have cared.”

It is so small, the way it resonances from his lips, and Louis knows he is lying. It is how he always gets when this starts, he’s like a melting hollow, a lost puzzle piece in the folds of sheets. Louis leans into him, breathing down his neck, “I would much rather leave, yeah?”

Harry's eyes mollify into a sweet calmness, his cheeks divoting as he bites his lip and desperately nods ‘yes.’

*

They are not even close to being drunk, just sipped a couple down, fuddled enough to feel the warmth in their stomachs spread through their limbs in a low buzzing roar, the disquietude slipping from their pores. Dry grass brushes against their ankles and tickles between their toes. They smile mindlessly, the feeling of an innate euphoria roaming through them. They’re at the park, it is nearing midnight, and the end-of-spring air is raw against their bare arms. Harry is holding their shoes, and Louis is holding Harry, and it is just them.

Louis stops at the big tree amidst the swing set and the slide, laying down on the most fragrant grass he finds, feeling it sink beneath his clothed thighs and tickle his arms. Then it is warm - a certain warm that has brimmed his life, _Harry_. Harry who lies beside him, their shoulders touching as they tangle their fingers together.

“We shouldn't have left your friends.”

Louis shrugs, “They’ll understand.”

Harry’s sigh gets caught in the wind as he takes his hand from Louis’ and runs it through his curls, tugging his headscarf off. “We should have at least said goodbye, Lou.”

“It’s fine, babe.”

“I know, it’s just,” Harry plays with the ends of his scarf nervously, “it’s just, they want to see you too.”

Frown lines cover Louis’ face and he sits up, “Harry, we are all getting older. We- we’re settling down kinda, you know? I have bigger priorities than taking shots with my mates. I have you, and you're my main priority.”

“We may be getting older Lou, but you're still too young for someone else to be your biggest priority. You’re young, and if you want to have fun you should be doing that.”

And, _oh_. Louis’ body clouds up as he deprecates. “Well, what's your biggest priority, then, Harry?”

The silence that settles around them is nice and thick, like ashes lodged down their throats as they look for the words to say to each other. Harry's thumb traces over Louis' hand and to his wrist, pushing down on his pulse to remind Louis to breathe. He just - _ouch._

“Harry, you really are the most important thing to me.” It is soft, and Harry's teeth dig into his bottom lip. Louis wants to believe that Harry thinks he is good enough, but he knows he doesn't. “I-I love you, Harry, okay? Like, I know you think you're a burden in my life, but-” Louis takes in a breath and shakes his head, “You make me so happy, Harry. Making _you_  feel happy makes me happy and,” he closes his eyes and whispers, “making you feel safe.”

Harry presses his thumb harder into Louis’ wrist, touching the vibration that is Louis' life, trying to find himself in it. His black, shimmering nails are dark to Louis’ naturally gold-dipped skin - a bold contrast like the feelings floating between them, the asymmetry. He sighs again. “You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, Louis.”

Louis feels that there is this rope between them, thin but capable. Some days they are impossibly distant, like the roads between them are burned to the ground and each railroad scatters more miles, but other days, it is wound impossibly tight, and Louis always strives for that. Wants to always be close to Harry. Always closer.

“Me too.”

 

 

**iv.**

Early morning whimpers and quiet sobs filtering from under the crack of the bathroom door always connote something that makes Louis' lungs soften and his skin wear thin. The thing is, Harry always tries to act like he has it all together, but the walls that crumble around him is all the proof Louis needs to know that the secret he is trying to bury is there, and it is always haunting him. The hurt being carried is bigger than the both of them, and Louis is just trying to calculate the distance from Harry to betterment and then back to himself, but the answer is always coming out in a perpetual string of, "no, no, no's!" and "please don't! I’m sorry!!" and the answer never changes.

Louis wakes up to hear a broken sob. He sits up like a habit under his fingernails, pushing the duvet away with a quiet yawn as he stands up. There is a lump in his throat as he pads down the short hallway and into the kitchen. It is routine, they know, because there is a raw place on Louis’ skin where he rubs nervously every single time this happens.

He grabs a glass from the cabinet, hands fumbling to find the exact one, before he opens the refrigerator and grabs the jar of strawberry milk. There is only a bit left and he takes note to buy some more on his way to class in the morning.

He knocks on the bathroom door lightly, it’s cracked open, and he can hear the soft hum of Harry's crying stop almost immediately.

“Harry? I'm coming in, okay?”

When Louis pushes the door open carefully, he sees Harry sitting on the edge of the bathtub in his sweats and a thin t-shirt. His cheeks are flushed and eyes puffy with tear stains. He looks awful, like the life has been drained from his body and the only thing left is the fingerprints that don't belong there.

Louis kneels down in front of him, pushing between Harry's knees so he is right up close and can whisper to his boy. “Hey, love.”

Harry tries to smile, but it splashes across his face in the blend of purples and blues. Every time Louis sees Harry like this he swears he sees all the bruises too. The bumps and scratches, all the spots in his flesh, like his insides are turning to his outsides.

He hands Harry the glass of strawberry milk, wiping over the boys tear-stained cheeks, just barely brushing over them because he is so afraid that Harry can still feel every hit.

(What strikes Louis the hardest is that he doesn't know everything. Harry is hiding a life from him and it’s crushing the both of them.)

Louis sighs, swallowing the ocean that is crashing in his throat and threatening to pour out, and he pulls his hand away. Harry tentatively sips on his strawberry milk, more tears slipping from his eyes until he flutters them close, trapping them inside. He pulls the glass away from his lips, licking over them before handing Louis the cup who is quick to take it from him, setting it on the counter before returning his attention to his beautiful boy.

“I’m sorry,” Harry sniffles, his voice cracking in the way Louis’ heart is.

“You have no reason to be,” Louis whispers to him, brushing his tangled curls back behind his ear, “absolutely no reason,” he pauses, rubbing his thumb across Harry's cheek, “want a bath now, darling?”

Harry looks down, a single tear rolling down his neck and into the dip of his collarbone. They've been through this. “Please,” he whispers.

Louis nods, biting at his lip and standing up. “Alright then baby, c’mon.”

Harry holds up his arms lazily, letting Louis peel the shirt from his skin. Louis carefully pulls it from his head, being careful with his baby, he always is. He starts the water, pouring in Harry’s favourite bubble bath soap that turns the water pink. He gets out a flannel to set to the side, twisting his neck to see Harry standing naked and looking so helpless. “Alright, get in,” he says softly, turning the water down so the tub won't get too full, but it will always be nice and warm.

Harry carefully steps in, sitting down in the bubbles and warm water, making a small noise.

Louis can't help but wonder how many broken synapses hold his boy together. How many more skin cells he will have to shed before the night fades to morning. How long it takes every noise, every bang, every hit to melt into silence; for the blood to turn into ocean drops that don't seep in but out, for the jagged coastline to erode into beach sand and pearls. _Softness._

(How much more there is.)

His thoughts are interrupted by a shy cough. He glances up from where he is now dipping the flannel in the water, meeting green eyes surrounded by red - but all he sees is swollen blackness and a busted lip.

“Can I wear the crown?”

Louis squeezes his eyes close to clear them, smiling tiredly before his response. “Of course you can.”

Whilst he rummages around under Harry’s bed for his pretty gold crown, he wonders what in the hell he is doing. And somewhere in the back of his mind, when he is placing the crown on Harry’s head, pulling out the right curls to shape his beautiful, tear-stained face, he knows what it is he is doing.

He is helping mask over the pain. He is taking Harry’s hand and telling him that everything that happened to him, never did.

“What body wash do you wanna use, baby?” He asks, trying to distract himself from all the different ones, the fact that there is such a large selection. His head feels heavy. He thinks he isn't breathing.

“Cotton candy?”

Louis smiles, tilting his head as he softly spews, “Anything you want.”

He grabs the wash, rubbing a small dollop of the sweet smelling liquid onto the flannel. He swallows the underlying swelling that is taking over his body and carefully drags the flannel over Harry’s milky skin. First his back, rubbing his hand in soothing circles. He feels the bumps of his spine under his fingertips, the jags of his shoulder blades smooth under his touch. He is perfect - so fucking perfect.

Harry makes a small noise, making Louis pull back to see if he is okay just to notice him pointing to his strawberry milk.

Louis feels sick. There are waves in his body, shifting his bones, cracking open his skin. It isn't right.

The nail polish, the crown, the fucking strawberry milk. Harry just paints over the abuse, the trauma. It is a touch up, cover up, a concealer. He is pulling at the split ends and tugging at the stitches; trying to rub the cuts into scars, and the scars into skin - he wants to be soft. Soft and pretty. He is 12 kinds of empty and 3 kinds of much too full, but there is always that chance. There is always that chance that the strawberry milk will erase everything that happened to him, and he knows it won't, but there is always that irrational chance.

He hands him the strawberry milk.

Louis watches as Harry's throat bobs, drinking his milk. He wants to tell him sorry - sorry for everything he has been through, but it is one of those situations where he is so sorry he can't even say it out loud.

He shakes his head, sighs, and dips his hand back in the water. Harry tilts the glass back and blows bubbles into his drink, looking up to Louis with these mischievously shining eyes; it’s not Harry though, is the thing, this is a vacant kind of Harry.

He bites back giggles and Louis smiles absent-mindedly at him, tracing over the brown specks on Harry's arm with the cloth, tracing constellations that scatter across his skin, trying to replace the transparent bruises with stars, trying to distract himself from the bumps that he feels forming under his skin.

There is so much damage Louis can't fix on his own.

If he is being completely honest, his eyes are burning. It is whatever time in the morning and he is so fucking tired, but he never stops taking care of Harry. He is tired, but unwillingly so awake. The horrific thrill runs through him, chilling him, Harry isn't okay. Sometimes he forgets, like when Harry is baking, taking the piss out of him with his gentle smile, and then when he is blushing from Louis’ kisses and words. But then it comes around and it hits him all over again, just like when he first found out however many months ago. It is just a bit hard to grasp sometimes.

Harry leans against the back of the bathtub, tilting his head to stare at Louis as he runs the flannel over his collarbones, moving down his chest and tummy in small, remedying circles. He lets out a soft giggle as Louis pets at his sides, body warm and lax in the blushing water. Louis smiles at him, fixes the crown in his soft curls, and leans up to kiss his nose.

He washes his thighs, knees, and feet, dragging the cloth over Harry’s creamy skin, enjoying the softness of it, the smoothness of his bare legs and arms. It would be so lovely, so sensual, if the meaning behind it wasn't so disgusting- Louis is drowning and Harry is already at the bottom.

“Alright love, stand up.”

Harry pouts but does as he is told, small smile on his face, eyes glossy, and it is weird - this thing they do. He stumbles up, still holding his glass, and Louis stands too from where he was kneeling beside the tub.

“Okay baby, is it okay if I wash your bum?”

Harry breathes in sharply as if all the softness left and then came rushing back. He nods shyly, turning around.

Louis rolls the cloth over his bum, being so delicate, so careful. It isn’t sexual- it never is. He is cleaning Harry up, washing away all the trauma, all the hurt, abuse. He is trying to wash away everything that should have never been there. Every wrong touch, scrape; it doesn't belong there.

Louis really loves Harry’s bum, though, is the thing. It isn’t in a completely wanton way, either. It is just so plump, so soft and tiny, feels just like honey under his fingertips and fits in his palms so perfectly. Absolutely impeccable, just like everything else that makes up what Harry is. Louis bites his lip, running the cloth between his cheeks, carefully washing away the bad touches.

He sighs, leans in, and kisses Harry’s shoulder, dropping the flannel into the water and holding Harry's hips. His skin smells sweet like the cotton candy and pure from the underlying aroma that is simply Harry.

“All done?” Harry asks.

Louis nods against his shoulder, mumbling a ‘yup’ into his slick, bare skin. He wants to stay. Wants to pretend it is all just in lewd touching - a long day's work, a romantic honeymoon bath. He wants to lick into Harry's mouth and trace infinity onto his skin.

He pulls away, though, to grab Harry's favourite towel. It’s a light bubble-gum pink, soft against his skin. He wraps it around Harry's shoulders and softly turns him around so they are facing each other. Harry gives a sloppy smile, his eyes unbelievably glossy - like he is somewhere else.

Louis takes the glass from Harry's hands and sets it on the counter, carefully drying off all the water droplets covering the expanse of Harry's skin and helping him step out of the tub. He runs the towel down Harry's legs and then back up, being so gentle because Harry is so delicate.

(He ignores every yawn that threatens to leave his mouth.)

He finishes drying Harry's skin with a kiss to his nose, turning to throw the towel in the hamper, and when he looks back, Harry is rolling stainer over his lips, a light pink colour tinting his mouth like the flush on his cheeks. Louis smiles tiredly, opening his arms, letting Harry step into them.

“Love you,” he says to his pretty boy.

“G’naked.”

Louis laughs into Harry's neck, kissing softly before pulling away, “You gonna sleep in your crown?”

Harry looks down shyly, picking at his nail polish. Louis keeps telling him to quit doing it, but he never listens. Personally, Louis thinks it’s an excuse for him to paint them more often, not that he minds.

“Can I?”

Louis nods, taking off his own shirt and rolling down his pants. He decides he’ll let out the water in the morning as he flicks the bathroom light off and guides Harry back to the bed with his hand on his back. He takes a peek at the alarm clock, 4:15 flashing bright at his tired eyes, and he follows Harry under the covers.

He can't help but to think of how much Harry needs help. He really can’t.

It is always there, popping into his head, ever since Louis found out. He can't help but to think about how much happier Harry would be if he just got some real, professional help.

As soon as he is laid down and comfortable in the plush sheets, Harry is attaching himself to his side, snuggling in close and laying his head on Louis' bare chest. Then: “Am I pretty?”

It always goes this way, when Harry gets like this - so small, so insecure, so scared.

Louis nods, playing with Harry's curls, “The prettiest boy of all, love.”

He can hear Harry sigh happily into his neck, nuzzling his nose against his collarbone and breathing in. Louis feels his heart skip and he needs to ask, he has to bring it up, he has to.

“Harry, love?”

Harry hums out a response, eyelashes fluttering against Louis' skin.

“I, uh-” Louis closes his eyes and pictures Harry. He pictures him with the capability to breathe even with the lodged pieces of past abuse. It slips out: “How do you feel about a support group, or maybe a counsellor?”

He breathes in sharply when Harry starts pulling away, “Lou-”

“Harry, stop," he interrupts, "I just want what’s best for you.”

He feels hot tears burn through his skin, a small whimper being breathed across his chest, so he pulls Harry closer despite his weak attempts to push away.

“I don't want to, Louis. I don't want to. I don't want to think about it, or talk about it. He’ll come back, he _will_.”

“I’ll help you through everything, love. I just think talking about what happened is the bes-”

“ _No_ Louis, you don't understand. He’s- he’s- he’s so _bad_ , I-” Harry breathes deeply, “it hurt so much Lou, don't make me. He'll come back.”

Harry lets out a nasty sob that immediately makes Louis turn and start wiping away all the tears and the snot running from his nose. He tries to wipe it all away, the bruises, and cuts, and every present he got bought that substituted every hit.

“I just want you to be ok-”

“I _am_ okay, Louis, I promise. Please don't do this to me. I- I can't-”

Louis shakes his head, holding in his own tears as he whispers, “You not being able to talk about what happened is just one example of why you're not okay, Harry.”

He doesn't say anything else after that, just listens to the small whimpers fabricating around him from Harry, and he tries to calm him by rubbing his back. His eyes burn, but he can't bring himself to close them. He hates himself for saying it, he really fucking does, but it leaves his mouth anyway.

“You don't have to baby, you don't have to. Don't worry about it.”

 

 

**v.**

When Louis wakes up again later that morning, the flashes of hours ago are the freshest thing in his brain, along with an ache in his chest. He worries his lip, noticing the salient chasm beside him; the dip that is empty, and the air that is silent. He knows he shouldn't panic, but there is something so unsettling about Harry not being beside him when he wakes up.

So he gets out of bed and slips on the pair of trackies left on the ground. They feel a little too big to be his, but that is the way he likes them. Opening the door and walking out into the other part of the flat, he smells breakfast - bacon and provolone - and relief rushes over him. Harry is here. He is still here.

And here is the thing:

Louis has this dream, it’s little, but so imperative. He wants to be able to walk up behind Harry, wrap his arms around his waist, and press his lips into his neck. Whisper sweetly or dirtily into his ear, nibble at his skin, make goosebumps go down Harry's arms. He wants to be spontaneous with Harry, wants to surprise him, and touch him, and feel like every piece of him is his too.

He can't though.

Because he never knows what is going to remind Harry of _him_. He is scared that if he wraps his arms around his waist after quietly padding up behind him, he will flinch in fear that it isn't Louis. He is scared that if he tries to make a move on Harry without being completely blunt, he will feel disgusted with himself more than anything.

He just always feels like he has to directly ask Harry to touch him at all.

And it’s not - he wouldn't _ever_ touch Harry when he didn't want to be touched, he would always stop for him - but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to just be cuddling on the couch and be able to slowly trail his fingers under the front of Harry's sweats, kiss down his neck, make shivers run through his veins as he forgets all about what’s on TV and focuses only Louis' hand. Louis just wants to make Harry feel good in every single way possible.

So that is what Louis is thinking about whilst he leans against the wall, watching Harry make the two of them breakfast sandwiches. His sweet hum is filling the bright air, and Louis could be wrong, but it sounds like the tune is to 'XO.' His hair is a pile of boyish curls and his lips are so puffy and so petal like, pink against his light skin. Louis can see his eyelashes casting shadows over his cheekbones, and his muscles moving beneath his skin that looks so fluid in every way he steps. Everything about him is so beautiful, so mesmerising.

“Morning babe,” he finally murmurs with a smile on his face.

Harry glances up, dimples caved in and eyes sparkling as he puckers his lips for a kiss. “Morning to you too,” he murmurs against Louis’, taking slow pecks.

And it's like last night never happened.

Harry pulls back with a smile and Louis turns to rummage through the fridge. “On your way to class today, do you think you could pick up so-”

“-strawberry milk. Already got ya’, babe,” Louis throws him a wink, deciding on drinking one of the jars of orange juice they have stored in the back. “So what is Harry doing today?"

Harry doesn't look up from where he is flattening the bacon, but Louis can see the small smile rippling over his cheeks. “Well, Harry was going to watch Top Gear reruns and study for tomorrows test, unless Louis had something else in mind.”

Louis ‘hmphed,’ smiling as he stole the piece of bacon Harry was putting on one of the sandwiches. “The only thing Louis has in mind is a date tonight?” He cocks his eyebrow, smiling shyly even though he knows the answer.

“Harry is pretty busy, but he probably has room for a date somewhere in his hectic day.”

And they always pretend like last night never happened.

*

Somewhere in the back of Louis’ mind he thinks he should have just gone to his social science class. But his left turn turned into a right turn, and the university turned into a crappy flat complex, and the sweet smell of Harry turned into this shit. Louis wrinkles his nose as he looks for Niall's shitty fucking apartment.

There it is, in all its tossing glory, is Louis’ first thought upon walking up to number 56. And then his next series of thoughts is walking away, and he does - walks right back down the corridor and to the stairwell. But then Harry's crying fills his ears. And every sob, word, ‘no’, fills his ears, flushing through his mind in painful shocks that makes him turn the fuck back around.

He stops at Niall's door, shapes a fist.

Falling apart in the bathroom, flinching, and freezing, breaking, breaking, _broken_. Harry blanching at the smell of black coffee, Harry whitening at loud noises, his eyes widening at the bruises on strangers. Roses, and watches, and apologies.

(Louis remembers when they were at this little market on the east side of town, shopping for organic foods because Harry wanted to make a detox meal paired with mint-lemon water. He was browsing the produce bins, gently tracing his fingers over each item. Louis remembers watching him, completely captivated by the way he was so benign with every single thing.

Then: “Mark, Mark! Clean up!”

And Louis watched Harry become bloodless, completely pallid. Louis watched as Harry stopped moving, entirely obsolete as two workers ran by with mops and brooms.

Harry winces every time he hears _his_ name.

They still haven't gone back to that little market.

 _Mark. Mark. Mark._ )

Louis knocks with a doubtful hand, but he knows that this is something he needs to do.

There is stumbling and a little bit of yelling, before Niall is pulling open the door with the biggest smile, and yeah, that's Niall. So gratified it is almost sickening to the cynical.

“Lou, what brings you by,” he pauses, eyes narrowing, “and where’s Curly?”

Louis takes in a deep breath, shaking his head, “At his flat, I wanted to- uhm," he freezes up, looking down, "I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Niall's confusion fills his face as he invites Louis in with curiosity. His flat smells like Febreeze and musk, despite the pizza boxes on the table and the clothes strewn about. “Yeah, what's up?”

He knows he shouldn't.

But instead of knowing he shouldn't, he sits down on the couch and Niall sits on the arm of it, watching Louis cautiously.

“Lou-”

“Okay, let’s say I have a friend, and like, a couple years ago said friend was in a bad relationship.”

Niall's eyes line and he bites his lip, “Bad relationship? Are you and Harry okay? What’s going on?”

“It was two years ago Ni, keep up,” Louis shakes his head in frustration, not looking up to Niall, “and let’s say one of them was abusive, like sexually, and verbally, and, uh, physically. What could you do about that now?”

“I don't - I would have to go get my law book and see if it's in there- I-”

(Louis remembers the first time his heart was torn from his chest and he felt like he was dying. He didn't know how he would ever fill the empty place in his chest, he didn't think anything could ever fill the darkness inside of him.

His mum and dad were getting a divorce. He remembers it word for word, until they sent him to the neighbour’s house. When he returned, he could feel the lifelessness of the house inside of himself. He never thought he would have to go through that again.

But then he met Harry. God, he fell for him so easily. Not slowly or shyly.

(He thinks back to them going to Harry's flat for the second time ever. When they were walking, Harry's hand accidentally bumped Louis’, and Harry smiled sheepishly, eyes soft. Louis choked on an inhale though, tripping over his feet- and that's how it happened. Harry smiled at him and all of a sudden Louis’ life wasn't even his own anymore. Louis hasn't admitted that to anyone, though, he is so embarrassed that Harry had such a strong effect on him so soon.)

The point is, though, that every time Louis has to remind Harry that everything is okay, it's like his parents are getting divorced all over again. Because it’s not okay, it's not. And Harry is his life.)

“Can you- please?”

There is a desperation in his voice that makes Niall stumble down his shitty corridor, to his shitty bedroom, tripping over shitty things in the way. He rummages through his rucksack, pulling out the correct textbook and thumbing through the index. All Louis can do to stop himself from digging his fingernails into the skin on his wrists, holding his breath and watching Niall walk back into the main room.

“What does it sa-”

“Give me a sec, gotta read into it. Fucking law mate, I still have an entire book before I even get to this one,” Niall murmurs as he licks his thumb and tries to split the pages. Louis offers a breathless laugh, waiting anxiously.

Silence fills the room as he waits, thumb tapping his thigh. Niall’s eyes scan the pages. Louis just-- he has to know that he at least _tried_  to do something more. He has to find comfort in at least that, because he knows doing nothing at all will eat him alive - it already is. It already fucking is and if he wants to be with Harry he can't allow that.

Niall clears his throat, making Louis immediately sit up, his eyes wide as Niall scans the pages again briefly. “So, um - there is a lot of, like, different statutes of limitation and stuff.“

Louis blinks slowly, “Okay?”

“You said two years, right?”

Louis nods nervously, a twisting feeling gathering in his lower tummy.

Niall sighs, “I mean, you can report the attack -- well attacks, but-”

Louis scoots closer. “But what?”

Niall just shakes his head, closing the book, “I don’t think it would help. I mean, I-" he stops, chewing his lip, carefully pondering his next question. "Who did it happen to, Lou? It- it would help me with where you are coming from, it would be easier.”

Louis shakes his head, throat clogging up as the words try to spill out on their own, “I can’t, Ni," he whispers quietly.

“Of course you can, mate. I - it wasn't _you_ , right?” Niall sits down beside Louis on the sofa, setting the textbook aside as he wraps an arm around him, gently rubbing circles into his back.

“No, it wasn't me.”

“Then who?”

"Niall, I-"

"Lou, you can trust me."

And it just spills out.

All over his flat, Niall's, like a crime scene that demands to be looked at.

“Harry.”

It is so quiet, the way his lips form the words, that he hopes Niall didn't even hear it. But Niall’s eyes widen, his mouth dropping as he shakes his head in disbelief, and he did, he did hear it.

Niall sits, rubbing his face in complete spurning, utter, utter disbelief, trying to grasp what he has just heard. His eyes, just a bit glossy, eyebrows lined in such a deep confusion, and they both are just sitting there, though, in completely different places.

Niall opens his mouth a couple of times, trying to form something he could say, but nothing can grow on his dry tongue, dry throat.

“I just don't know what to do,” Louis whispers finally, tone weak.

“Kick the guys fucking arse,” Niall murmurs in an immediate response, and Louis laughs sadly, because there is nothing more he would rather do.

“I just want him to get better," he says hopelessly, "I mean, it's been two fucking years and it still haunts him just the same, and it’s because he has never gotten help, and I just - I know two years isn't a long time - and he isn't going to like, just forget about it, but he could just be so much happier, you know? And, I just-” Louis rambles desperately in hopes it will make everything stop, “I just need to help him somehow.”

Niall looks to him, surprised, “He won’t go into a therapy group? Or any type of counselling?”

“He doesn't want to tell anyone, doesn't want to even talk to me about it.”

Niall frowns, visibly swallowing, “Well, I know you don't want to hear this, but - I mean- I don't really think you should report the- the-y'know” Niall scratches the back of his head awkwardly, “I don't really think you should, but- but I don't really know, so.”

There is another swoop in Louis’ stomach as he asks, “Why?”

Niall takes in a deep breath, elbows on his knees, and head falling into his hands, “Two years, Lou, two years. It’s just, it’s too late," Niall looks up, tears forming in his eyes, "I mean, it’s never too late, obviously. It’s just- there isn't evidence anymore. Well, yeah, there is like, the trauma, but that's not proper evidence."

He shakes his head, almost angrily, "Cause it could be from a variety of things, y'know? And reporting it might, like, piss this guy off. Like, people are crazy, Lou. I think that’s why Harry didn't do anything about it, so his family or something didn't get hurt, too, because like- because half the time people like that don't get imprisoned, especially if you don't press charges, and now it’s just too late to press charges for domestic violence. Hell,"  Niall throws his hand up, "they might not even count it as domestic violence and then,” Niall takes in a breath, “then the rape part- that- even if he reported that right away it- it never - I mean-” Niall shakes his head, “it’s not going to do shit, y'know?”

Niall takes a deep breath, frowning, "The system is shit. People do bad things all the time and the only consequences they ever face is fucking community service."

A couple of tears fall down Louis cheeks and he finds himself clenching his fist, whispering angrily, “The world fucking sucks.”

Niall laughs a little at that, sympathetically, rubbing Louis’ back again. “Counselling will help though, Lou. But like, if you can't get him to talk to others, at least try to get him to talk to you. He- he needs to tell someone, needs to get it out.”

Louis nods in response, closing his eyes tight in hopes all of this hurt, this unaccounted for mass that sits in his chest, will just disappear. Weakly, he murmurs, “What else do you think I could do?”

Niall gets up from the couch, going to the fridge. Louis watches him pull out a couple of beers. It's only 11:20, but he definitely thinks drowning himself right now is better than showing up to his class with red eyes. “I don't know mate, better memories? Just make him happy, y'know? Love 'em.”

Louis takes the bottle Niall holds out to him after he pops the cap off, and he takes a long gulp, trying to push past all he is feeling right now.

“Why didn't you tell me sooner, Lou?” He hears Niall ask, feeling the weight in the couch sink as he sits beside him again.

“Didn't tell anyone, didn't want me to," he takes another drink from his beer…

…and pretty soon it turns into rum and coke.

Beer bottles are scattered across Niall's apartment, at least there is more than when Louis got there. A few bottles of something stronger are to the side of them, and Louis just keeps letting things tumble out from his mouth, letting the words beat their way up his tongue.

"Y’know, his flat is pink."

Niall's eyes widen, “No.”

“Yeah, pink n’ girly. It helps him feel pretty,” Louis slurs.

“Mate, ‘m straight but your boy is plenty pretty.”

“I know right!” Louis hiccups, this little, happy feeling bubbling in his chest, “he’s gorgeous!”

Niall takes to drink from his glass again, but is met with an empty bottle to his lips. He shrugs, picking up the bottle of the stronger stuff and drinking from it straight. The fucking Irish, Louis thinks.

There is a vibrating to his left and Louis groans. “What is that annoying noise?”

“S’your phone, dumbarse. S’been going off for a while now, wondering when ya’notice.”

Louis sighs dramatically, picking it up. He sees blurred numbers of 3:54 on his phone, and then manages to make out ‘missed calls’ and ‘curly<3.’

His brain is warm and fuzzy, body loose and languid. He feels good, but at the same time not at all. Thoughts of his Harry flash through his mind and the 'not-at-all' feeling gets worse, because he just wants to kiss him, misses his lips. He misses Harry's mossy eyes. His peachy face. He misses him so much, god, _Harry._

He finds himself standing up on wobbly knees and Niall is looking at him with his 'what the fuck? ' face.

“Gotta go, Ni, because- because Harry. Harry ‘n me had a date tonight.”

Niall face scrunches up all weird, and he puckers his lips, blowing him a kiss as a goodbye. “Wine ‘n dine him, Tommo.”

*

Stumbling, stumbling, stumbling, and “God Louis, where have you been?”

“Went’o Niall's.”

Harry grabs his waist gently, fingers lightly trailing under his shirt to hold the skin on his hips, and he leads him to the couch. There is a little stain on it in the light colour from a Chinese night they had that ended in steamy snogging. They hid it with more pink laced covered pillows, though right now, the pillows aren’t covering it up at all. Louis notices that, because at the moment, he feels sort of just like that stain, invasive and ugly. Harry smiles at him, though, despite him being a stain, an awful, disgusting stain, and helps him lay down on the couch. He laughs lightly, watching Louis’ head loll to the side. “Did’ya have fun?”

Louis nods fervently, before, “Date tonight.”

Harry smiles gently, kneeling in front of him on the floor. He rubs Louis' fringe from his eyes, hand resting on his cheek momentarily, before pushing his hair further back away from his face. His hair is getting quite long and he hasn’t managed to get in for a cutting. “Lou, baby, you're drunk.”

 _I am drunk_ , he thinks. _I am also warm and fuzzy and want to kiss you really bad_ , he continues in slurs. _You've been through a lot, I love you_ , and, _why can't I kiss you, why can't I touch you?_

Louis stares at Harry and Harry stares back like Louis is his favourite thing in the entire world, like there is some light in his alcohol-glossed eyed reflecting back into Harry's that is making him fall in love even more. Which Louis thinks is fucking strange, because he is piss drunk and can't even take Harry out on a date. Can't even - _a date_.

He clenches his eyes close, only to open them and have the sudden want to kiss Harry. Like really kiss him, tongue and all.

“What did he do to you?” he blurts out, dismissing the forefront of his mind.

Harry blinks and Louis is so fucking sad, and drunk, and he just wants Harry to be happy.

He isn't, though, because he sighs, repeating in disdain, “Lou, you're drunk.”

Louis’ head rolls to lay against the side of the couch. He feels Harry's hand rest on his knee, his thumb rubbing under the hole in his jeans and pressing against his skin there. Louis feels warm.

“I know,” Louis states moodily, “and I really want to kiss you.”

There are no lights on in the small flat, something he didn't notice before. It is nearly summer, but grey clouds swirl the sky, making it seem rather dark compared to most of the nights they’ve had this week. Harry stands up, carefully kneeing his way between Louis’ legs that are spread on the couch, and laying down. It is a tight fit, and not the most comfortable, but his head is against Louis’ chest, listening to his heart beat- and it’s so strange, that he is listening to the process of Louis’ life beats merely inches away. It is so close. He loves that, he loves the tangibility of his love.

He smiles endearingly, listening for a few moments longer before bringing his hand up to rest on Louis’ cheek again. “You can kiss me,” he assures quietly.

"Yeah?" Louis murmurs, "yeah as in of course, yeah?"

“Of course,” he giggles softly.

Louis’ lips are chapped and Harry can taste the alcohol on him. He licks into his mouth anyway, though, sucking on his tongue even though he knows he shouldn't. His honey-chipped nails are digging into Louis’ sides, and he loves it, loves it even more when Louis moans into his mouth, wrapping his arms around his shoulders to lazily pull him closer.

The taste of alcohol should bother him, sucking it from Louis' throat the way he is, but it just makes him want more.

Louis tends to have that effect on him.

 

 

**vi.**

Louis wakes up to the feeling of his stomach gurgling on acid and a mop of curls pressed into his cheek. His head pounds everywhere- in his elbows, palms, knees. He takes in a slow, deep breath, closing his eyes as he gently pushes Harry to the side of the couch so he can get up. He blinks hard, the room spinning as he grabs a throw blanket by the side of the couch to cover Harry up with.

He hasn't been proper drunk in what feels like forever, but at the same time, he still feels somewhat immune to it, like his body still hasn't forgotten who he use to be and what he use to do. He kneels in front of the toilet, shoving two of his fingers down his throat, anything to get the icky feeling of his hangover to ooze out of him. He forgot how awful it all was, the taste, the feel, the waking up.

He thinks he is being quiet, but as he gags on his fingers, he can see Harry leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. His hair is a sleepy mess, face shining an empathetic smile.

All of what happened yesterday hits him in the stomach, and he all of a sudden he no longer has to force himself to puke, it is just goddamn happening. He feels sick, so fucking sick.

And it all hurts - so, so much.

He thinks about his sisters, and how if this had ever happened to them, he would be relentless in getting them the best help possible. He loves them, and would never allow them to let their life rot inside of themselves as they walked around.

He tries to imagine how painful it must be for Harry, but the only thing he can imagine is a reflection. Looking in the mirror and seeing himself. But then his reflection is slitting its throat and blood is dripping in the sink. The difference is, only he is locked in a casket and put below a gravestone. His reflection still pays the bills, and brushes his teeth, and goes to class, and tells his mum he loves her. That’s Harry, a reflection. Harry needs help, and Louis swears he is going to do whatever he can to make him realise that. He’s hung over and never giving up. That's Louis.

Harry pads into the bathroom, hand gently swiping Louis' fringe back. Louis leans into his hand, closing his eyes as tears drip down his cheeks. He doesn't like this feeling, this inevitable feeling of hopelessness pumping through him faster than his own blood.

Harry leans down and kisses his head, the words, "I'll go get you some water and ibuprofen, alright love?" tumbling into his hair.

Louis nods weakly in response, and Harry smiles sadly, adding in, "and I'll make you a yummy, greasy breakfast to help you out, okay?"

"Okay," he croaks in reply.

“Do you need me to do anything else for you, babe?” he asks sweetly, trailing his fingers through Louis’ messy hair.

He nods into the toilet bowl, reaching up to flush it.

“What is it?” Harry smiles down at him, rubbing his thumb over his temple. The slight pulse in the feeling of Harry's thumb against his pounding head is surprisingly comforting him, and he pushes himself closer into the touch.

Louis thinks he might be drunk again when he says it.

“I need you to tell me what he did to you.”

The thumb on his head stops rubbing.  Just - stops.

“Louis, don't.”

It is a warning, he knows, but - but Louis can actually hear the weak desperation of ‘no’ in Harry's reply, the sounds of his sobs and skin hitting skin, and he - he clenches his fist until they're white and numb, ignoring it all, _trying_. But fuck, he isn't a fucking professional, he doesn't know what he is doing. All he knows is that the person he loves is hurting, and that when he was little and saw his parents fighting through the crack in his door, it felt so good to tell the little girl that lived across from him every single thing that happened.

“Har-”

“No, Louis,” he says louder now, the words bouncing on the tiles of the bathroom and ringing in his head. Louis lets out a sob, remembering something from yesterday.

“I forgot to get strawberry milk yesterday, I’m so, so sorry.”

(And he has never felt like such a miss-stepping failure.)

 

 

**vii.**

It is another night. Louis has his last finals of the year in the morning, and Harry took his last one today. The fairy lights are on, casting a yellow glow around the flat from the dipped ways they’re strewn across the light pink walls. On one side of the coffee table sits a warm cup of tea and a biscuit, the other scattered with notes and pens. Louis can’t be damned to study, though, despite the calm comfort of the room. Because the cotton candy candle lit in front of him flickers teasingly, sweet smells wafting in the air, and Harry, his angelic voice, singing in the kitchen to the soft music that is playing through the flat. Louis has no reason to be distracted, yet, here he is. Textbook open and eyes burning.

And he just wants to know why. Why does he have to take all these pointless, sodding classes when all he really wants to do is teach little kids the alphabet, and colours, and numbers. How the fuck does science classes, and history classes, and fucking calculus help him with that, _honestly_.

He sighs in frustration, closing the book and digging his palms into his eyes. He knows why he really can’t study right now.

The thing is, Harry looks best when he is doing what he loves. The yellow light is hitting his skin, seemingly emitting the glow of the sun from the lights to Harry and straight to Louis. His eyes are concentrated, the gold freckles bouncing inside of them, and Louis forgets that anything bad had ever happened to him because he is so convened into what he is doing; completely centralised in his ardour for cooking - it is beautiful, really, watching someone do what they are so clearly passionate about.

Right now, he is mixing together the ingredients to the dough of a new pastry he is trying to make. Louis thinks Harry said it was called pain au chocolat, and it is a French pastry his professor talked about having once, and how it was ‘so heavenly.’ So of course Harry has to try to make it.

“Harry?” he says softly, inhaling the chocolaty aroma mixing with the sweet smell of candy that is filling the room.

The boy glances up to him, his thick lashes casting the smallest of shadows over his soft cheek bones. Louis forgets to breathe, he does.

“You aren't mad that I stayed with Niall the other day, are you?”

“Of course not, why would I be?” His lips curl into a smile and his eyes follow shortly.

Louis just shrugs, standing up and walking into the kitchen. He sticks his finger into the bowl of sweetly mixed chocolate, twirling it around to get a good amount of the nectarous liquid onto his finger before popping it into his mouth and licking it away with a soft moan.

Harry glares playfully, shaking his head as he continues rolling the dough. “It’s good that you’re spending time with someone else, we don't always have to be together, you twat.”

Louis scoffs in response, scooping more of the mixture onto his finger and dabbing the tip of Harry's nose with it. Harry sticks his tongue out at Louis, and Louis dabs some there, too. Then they are laughing, and then kissing, and then they are forgetting all about pastries and finals as they pull each other closer.

(“Harrryyy, leave it on your tooonguuue, I wanna lick it oooff.” “I can’t believe I’m dating such a kinky brat.” “Yeah, and I can’t believe you won’t indulge me.” “You’re eating my ingredients.” “Well I know what would taste better.” “You need to study.” “Just put it on your tooongue.” “I’m only doing this for your future.” “And because you love me.” “For your future.” “Love.” “Future.”)

 

**viii.**

After some this’s and that’s, and a bit of a discovery, Louis gets a bonus refund from the university. Something about his classes mixing up and an extra scholarship. Louis isn't complaining, no, not even with the long hassle of phone calls he had to deal with.

Louis’ in the store now, actually, Niall trailing behind him looking at all the makeup products like they are foreign objects.

“Mate, you're absolutely gone for him, aren't you?” Niall says, fingers trailing over bottles of mascara.

“What do you mean? And try to keep up, you act like you've never seen this shit before.” Louis turns to a different aisle, breathing out, “prat.”

“You’d never do this for anyone else, I seen the way you were with Josh. S’ real for you, innit?”

Louis lets out a breath once he gets to the nail polish, eyes darting over all the choices. His heart clenches a bit and he looks back to Niall with a lump in his throat, “Yeah, this is,” he pauses, “this is the real deal for me.”

He picks out soft colours, gently pale in all the right ways, because those are his favourite on Harry. He likes the way they seemingly fade into his skin, the way they are soft, just like him. Niall tries joining in, throwing in greens, oranges, and whites, and Louis scolds him with a whack to the head.

(“I swear I didn't pick ‘em out cos they were Ireland's colours. I swear, mate.”)

“What about this, Lou?” Louis looks over to where Niall had wandered to. He is holding up a black compact square case, and his eyes squint.

“What is it?”

“I think it is like, that blush stuff?” Niall looks at the picture on the case with a confused pout, “Like, it gots some lady's cheeks on it, weird looking cheeks might I add, but it's pink. Harry likes pink, right?”

Louis rolls his eyes, but he can't help the smile that rolls over his face. He needs Niall right now, and it is nice to know that Niall is, and always will be, Niall.

“Throw it in,” he holds out the basket and motions for Niall to toss it.

(When they're checking out Louis pretends not to see Niall sneak in a box of chocolate Maltesers. If anything, he deserves them.)

 

 

( **ix.**

“Lou?”

“Lou, babe?”

Louis feels a hand stroking over his cheek, hot breath fanning over his face, and he slowly stirs awake. His eyes flutter open, only to see Harry's own bright eyes looking into his, his face outlined by the darkness that surrounds them.

“Something wrong?” Louis says hoarsely, voice scratchy from sleep.

“No, well - I don't think so. I just,” Harry smiles, “I didn't want to wait ‘till morning to ask.”

Louis tilts his head, hair falling into his eyes as he squints up at Harry. A yawn escaping his lips, “Ask what?”

Harry breathes in, smile small and a bit nervous, “Do you wanna move in? Like, officially?”

The calm feeling of intensity rushes through Louis in large amounts. He thinks he should be slightly less okay with 'officially' moving in with Harry, but he is more okay than ever.

That is the thing about them, the trust they have in each other runs deeper than the amount of time they have known one another.

Because the thing is, Louis already has a key to the place, and all of his stuff is here besides his bed and dresser and some random stuff. He has his family pictures hanging on the walls right beside Harry's, and his shoes scatter the living-room whilst Harry’s are always neatly set by the door. But the fact Harry is still inviting him, still giving him the offer, it makes Louis' heart tumble. And the fact that Louis isn't scared one bit about it, and this, it just speaks volumes.

“I know it’s kinda small, and like, pink, but we can redecorate if that's what you want an-”

He is cut off by Louis’ lips pressing against his own, and he smiles into the kiss.

“To be honest,” Louis murmurs against Harry's cheek, pressing a small kiss there too, “I thought I was already living here.”

Harry laughs ridiculously, and his smile is so big it reaches Louis’ heart.)

 

 

**x.**

It is a Thursday and the hot summer air is floating around and seeping into their skin, dripping back out in beads of sweat. Louis went out and bought an air conditioner for the flat, hooked it into one of the small windows on the kitchen side of the flat with minimal fuss, ("You think you could go outside and hold the back side up so it’s easier?" "Louis, I think the heat is getting to you. We are on the second floor. Do you know how many fingers I am holding up, darling?" "Don't sass me, Harold." "Seriously though, do you need me to help or not?" "No, go away." "Okay, don't forget to take it out of the box first." “Oh shut up.") and now all they can do is sit inside. Because the world outside is melting, and Harry and Louis can make each other melt just fine on their own without the help of the sun, thank you very much.

“I got you something,” Harry looks over to Louis curiously, “well, more than something.”

Louis is only in his pants and Harry is in a thin cotton t-shirt that barely covers up his bum. His bum that is laced in plain silky panties, a lovely pearl pink against his skin. If it wasn't so sodding hot, Louis might be a little more than half hard by the sight.

Harry laughs, “Of course you did.”

Louis rolls his eyes, smiling fondly as he reaches for his backpack at the side of the couch. He pulls out another bag, it’s plastic and makes a crinkly noise, and Louis sits cross legged on the opposite end of the couch, putting the bag between them. They would sit closer, but it's too bloody hot.

Louis scoots the bag to him a bit more, shyly almost, even though he buys Harry things often. It just makes him so happy giving Harry what he deserves, showing him the appreciation he has for him in different ways.

He watches as Harry opens the bag, biting back his grin as Harry's eyes shimmer over and two holes indent his cheeks. "Louis," he murmurs in awe.

“I got that bonus refund money I was telling you about. Don't worry, I put some back, but c’mon, you know me,” he shrugs, "had to buy you something."

Harry nods in response, eyes trailing back to the bag, “I've never used this colour before,” he says lightly, pulling out a neon chartreuse colour and looking over the bottle.

Louis’ eyes light up as he watches, “Oh, Oh!” Louis starts, clapping a little and bouncing in his spot, “I got that especially for you, cause it’s called “I’m addicted” and I’m addicted to you!”

Harry blushes, throwing his head back and laughing at how ridiculous Louis sounds, “Is that a pick up line, Tomlinson?”

Louis smirks, “I don't know Styles, did it work?” He leans across the couch, only to find that Harry is doing the same. They're both only inches from each other’s face, staring at each other with the smallest of smirks plastered over their lips, until Harry leans in and pecks Louis’ lips real fast and then bursts out laughing at Louis' shocked jump.

"Ha ha," Louis starts sarcastically, but the smile over his lips ruins it all, “C’mon then, give me the polish. M’painting your nails.”

Harry smiles happily, handing it over to Louis and sprawling his fingers over the couch cushion in between them. Louis ‘tsks’ and grabs Harry's hand, pulling the boy closer by it before letting it sprawl over his thigh.

“Can’t ruin the couch, now can we?” Louis says, raising his eyebrow.

Harry flushes, choosing to lightly squeeze Louis’ bare thigh as a response. He subtly trails his thumb under Louis’ pants, feeling how soft his upper thigh is, thinking about how good his skin tastes in the spot his thumb is pressed down on. He ignores the way Louis falters at spinning the cap off the nail polish, his breath sputtering. “Being cheeky, are we?” Louis smirks, pulling Harry's thumb back.

Louis carefully paints over his Harry's thumbnail, smiling when he hears the small noise of relaxation fall from Harry's lips.

“My mum called the other day,” he murmurs quietly.

“Yeah?"

“Yeah, she asked when she was going to get to meet you.”

Harry blushes, “I don't know, when are you going to get us together.”

Louis rubs his thumb over Harry's hand reassuringly, carefully painting the next nail over. He smudges paint between Harry's nail and skin, and carefully wipes it away with his own nail. “She said she is coming up for Zayn's art show, I swear sometimes it seems like she loves him more than me.”

Harry laughs, mouth wide open, “From what you've told me, I think Lottie is the one who loves him more.”

“I still haven't told her he is dating Liam.”

Harry's eyes widen, “She is going to get here and be heartbroken.”

Louis rolls his eyes, “S’what she gets for liking a guy who she can never have.”

“Oh c’mon, don't tell me you've never liked someone older than you when you were that age.”

“Does wanking to David Beckham’s arse count?”

Harry snorts, “I didn't know the standards were so high.”

Louis carefully blows air over Harry's nails, glancing up through his lashes, “Oh please, you and your little bum is a thousand times better.”

“Not tossing material, though.”

“Yeah you're right, I use to get off to the thought of your eyes, though.”

Harry blushes, “Bullshit.”

“Yeah I know,” Louis laughs, grabbing Harry's other hand, “I probably could though, if you wanted me to try.”

“Why would I want you wanking when I could be the one getting you off?”

“I don't know, maybe you're too busy meeting my mum to realise I need you and I have to resort to my hand instead of yours," Louis wipes the bristles over another fingernail, before adding, “and for your information, your arse very much is wanking material."

Harry rolls his eyes, “You truly are ridiculous, Louis Tomlinson.”

“You love me though, Harry Styles.”

Harry smiles when he looks down to see that Louis is painting over his ring finger. “Yeah, I do.”

Louis bites his lip, simpering as he asks, “So, Harry Styles, I heard you talking to your mother the other day- your mother who still doesn't know I even exist- how is she doing?”

Harry frowns, “Lou, you kno-”

“I know, I know. I’m only teasing,” he rolls his eyes fondly, “Seriously though, how is she? Will I ever get to meet her?” Louis smirks, shaking his head to try and flip his messy fringe from his eyes. Harry moves it for him, careful enough not to mess up his already painted nails.

“Lou, I-" Harry pauses, shaking his head and saying quietly, "I haven't even seen her since - you know.”

It feels like a thousand tiny needles are prickling Louis' skin, just hard enough for it to bother. He stops painting Harry's nails. "You haven't seen your mum since then?"

Harry shakes his head, taking in a shaky breath. Tears fill his eyes.

"Hey, hey,  now," Louis reaches over with his free hand, wiping away a tear, "why haven't you seen her, love?"

"Well I can't exactly invite her down to visit, look at this fucking place." It is so bitter, the way it drips from his lips. Louis tries not to take it personal, but everything with Harry is a bit personal now.

"Hey now, I live here too. Don't go insulting our place, Harry. Our home."

Harry lets out a little sob and Louis quickly puts the cap on the nail polish. "It's just weird Lou, okay? I know it is. You said it yourself, when we first met."

Louis really feels it then, the punching feeling of fingers rooting in his stomach and squeezing his heart, digging dirty nails into it until it is screaming ' _I'm sorry_ ,' but sorry doesn't make it okay. It is just an, _oh_ , Harry still thinks about that.

"Harry-" he starts speechlessly, "if I- if I really thought all of this was so fucking weird, I wouldn't still be here. I love you, and I love all this. Just - stop."

Harry sneers, "Yeah, well a mother doesn't want to go to her son's house and see," Harry throws his hand in the air, gesturing to the room with blurry eyes, "this."

"She is your _mother_ ," Louis says in disbelief, "she will love you no matter what, Harry."

"You can love someone and still be disappointed by them."

Louis is- he- he is so _frustrated_.

"Fine, Harry," he says, upset, "why don't you just go visit her then."

And as soon as it leaves his mouth he tries to suck it back in with a heavy breath and wide eyes.

Harry is still, mouth open and eyes filled with tears. He slowly starts shaking his head, face scrunching up as he starts bawling, dropping his head to his hands and digging his nails into his scalp.

"Harry, I-" Louis stops, trailing his finger down Harry's arm, "I'm sorry. I know why."

Louis hates himself. He hates himself so much for saying it, for being so insensitive, he just- it is so _hard_  sometimes. Because sometimes his head is full of these things that his heart just doesn't understand. He can't believe Harry hasn't seen his mum, and he can't believe Harry still thinks about what he said to him, and he just can't fucking believe someone could ever be so heartless to hurt him. He just doesn't fucking get it.

He sucks in another breath, and grabs Harry’s wrist, trying to pull his hand away. “You're going to mess up your nails, love,” is the best sentence he manages to form.

Harry hiccups, “I don't care.”

Louis doesn't even know what he is doing. He never does. He sits, watching Harry cry, and he is so scared to touch. There are cracks in Harry's skin and he doesn't know how to fill them. He tries too, but it always feels like they end up bigger.

(He loves Harry so fiercely, loves him like a house cauterising from the inside. Sometimes he gets burned, and other times Harry does.)

He carefully unscrews the cap to the nail polish, looking down at his own nails, trying to fight back tears. He is suddenly the one who feels dirty. Dirty in the fact that he actually dared to ask something so cruel. Harry doesn't deserve that, Louis thinks. They're allowed to get mad at each other and say things, but Louis knows there was absolutely no good reason for him asking in venom.

So, he doesn't know why he is doing it, but he starts painting his own nails. It is such a lovely shade and he thinks about how it’s going to match Harry. It is so strange though, because it really is so distracting from everything, and for a moment, he thinks he understands why Harry does it.

(But then he realises

he _never_ will.)

By the time he finishes them, Harry is watching; quiet tears pooling in the hollows of his eyes as he sits. It is quiet, the sound of the air conditioner the only noise, but it is background noise, nothing compared to each heavy breath Louis can hear Harry take, each pang that shakes their flat when a tear drop falls, and it is all so awful, so _unfair_.

When he is done, he doesn't look up. He feels so bad- _guilty_  - for saying it, but there is no way to take it back. It is so terrifying how a bundle of letters and spaces can affect someone so much, make the letters stop forming and the spaces between each of them get bigger.

He sighs, looking down at his nails. The only time Louis ever lets Harry paint them is when he thinks it is what he needs to cheer him up, but he has never done it to himself. He just feels so awful, though, and now he is questioning himself, and his life- and fuck:- he just feels fucking awful. He can’t even imagine how Harry is feeling. He can't even fathom how it would feel to be killed from the inside, how it would feel to have his personal freedom ripped away from his own skin.

He sniffles, watching as Harry's hands slip under his, and his fingers grasp around his wrist. He takes in a deep breath and finds the courage to look up. Harry's eyes are red and his smile is small, “It’s- it’s okay,” he murmurs quietly, almost like a question.

It's not. Louis knows it's not.

(He nods anyways.)

Harry smiles and let’s go of Louis to wipe at his eyes. He sighs deeply, before reaching for the bag and digging through it again. He pulls out the black compact case and smiles awkwardly, “S’this?”

“Oh, um, its blush?” he smiles lopsidedly, “at least I think it is? Niall picked it out so, uhm.”

“Niall?” Harry asks, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Louis says, smiling shyly. Everything feels different now. One moment they were on the same path and now Louis feels like the path has disappeared and they are going the wrong direction. It is not okay.

Louis bites his cheek though, murmuring, “Can I?”

Harry nods, smiling watery.

Louis smiles too, so many thoughts racing through his head as he strokes his hand over Harry's cheeks. They’re a bit wet and sticky, from all the tears and heat. He wipes at them softly, keeping his hands on the side of his face as he looks into Harry's eyes A desolating feeling washes over him as he watches Harry smile, cheeks dimpling where Louis' thumbs are placed. It’s sad, because Louis can feel the falseness in it, only there for a quick reassurance.

“I don't really know how to do this,” he says, trailing off whilst opening the container. He takes out the brush and examines it, thumbing over the bristles of it, before dabbing it into the pink powder.

Harry smiles chastely, closing his eyes and leaning forward.

Louis hums, gently dabbing over Harry's cheek with the brush, nice and slow, watching the light pink spread over his cheekbones and define the colour of his eyes so tenderly. Harry slowly opens them, Louis still brushing over his cheeks, and placing a light coat on his upper jaw.

“I really am sorry,” he murmurs, not quite making eye contact with Harry as he slows his strokes with the brush.

“S’okay.”

It is just always okay.

 

**xi.**

Liam is in class, Harry is at work, and Louis is back at the flat that he officially no longer lives in, waiting around for Zayn to tell him the news. He’s digging through the cabinets though, looking for something actually good to eat because he is hungry. There's no yogurts or fruits or veggies - definitely not strawberry milk - and he finds himself frowning. He digs up a bag of crisps and he thinks they’ll suffice until he makes it back to his and Harry's flat.

(To Harry, his person home.)

Zayn strolls in with just a towel on around his waist and Louis notices a new tattoo, actually, a few. Louis raises an eyebrow and sits on the countertop, popping open the bag and eating a few crisps. They seem stale, a bit too salty too.

“Long time, no see.”

Louis rolls his eyes, “It’s been five days.”

A pout covers Zayn's lips and he steals a crisp, “Too long, you're never home anymore.”

Louis shrugs, “Yeah, well,” he’s always home. He should probably tell Zayn, he doesn't know why he is nervous about saying it though.

“How’s your boy toy doing, then?"

There it is. Louis chokes a bit, glares at Zayn, and a new feeling of anger and possessiveness itches through him. “Don't ever say that.”

Zayn looks up at him quickly from where he is rummaging in one of the drawers, taken back by Louis’ harsh tone. “Hey, it’s just a joke, Lou.”

“Well I don't think it’s very funny, Zayn. And I don't want you talking about him like that.”

“Okay Louis, what crawled up your arse? I know you love him and all, but you're so fucking protective, it’s pathetic. You treat him like he’s a sodding baby.”

Louis hops off the counter. This is his _best friend_  for fuck's sake, the one he has known since he was in elementary school, the one he grew up with, but it is starting not to feel that way. “I just care about him a lot, okay?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “We never see you anymore Lou, it's like you've disappeared. All you care about is Harry this, Harry that. Look, you even have your nails painted,” Zayn's eyebrows furrow, “It's fucking weird, mate.”

“Oh bullshit, don't pretend like you and Liam aren't always on top of each other, you're just as bad,” Louis grits, running his thumb over one of his nails, “and don't fucking pretend you and Liam don't get off on fucking cross-dressing shit, either.”

Zayn holds onto his towel, glaring at Louis, “It’s hot to us, okay? But your nails are fucking painted and I know it isn't because of that,” Zayn laughs mockingly, “unless what ya’ do is sit around coming in your pants as you paint your nails.”

“Fuck you,” Louis says so lowly it stings.

“I just want to know what happened to my best mate, okay? You’ve never been so distant from the rest of us because of a fucking boyfriend. Why the hell have you decided he is more important than us,” Zayn tries to step closer to Louis, but Louis steps back, glaring.

“I never said he was.”

“Then what the fuck is going on?” Zayn is pleading, "Why does it feel like we're losing you?" and Louis’ trying to bite on his tongue as Zayn says it. He didn't ask for this.

“You’re not losing me, Zayn. We just have other people in our lives now.”

“Harry is different though, okay? He has changed you. You give him all of your attention an-”

“He was fucking abused and raped, Zayn!” Louis yells, biting his cheek as he slams his fist into the wall as the fist in his stomach completely crushes his heart, and it hurts so fucking bad, just everything. “Fucking raped,” he whispers as if he can't believe it, and he can't, he still can't believe that someone could do that to Harry. _Harry._

“Lou-”

“No, don't fucking apologise,” He practically hisses, tears stinging his eyes as he holds his hurt fist.

“I didn't know, Louis I-” Zayn's so fucking bewildered, he doesn't- he isn't- Harry- _what_?

“Exactly. You didn't fucking know,” Louis says bitterly, shaking his fist, trying to make the hurt go away. It never goes away. “That's not even half of it. I don't even _know_  all he has been through because he won’t fucking tell me and, and-” Louis wipes away tears, “do you know how hard it is? How hard it is to hear you call him a fucking boy toy, because he isn't, he _isn't_ ,” his voice cracks and Zayn steps closer.

“I'm so sorry, Lou,” he murmurs, “I just - I don't want to lose you, you're my best friend. And - and that's what it felt like.” Zayn stops, carefully grabbing Louis’ shoulder, rubbing his thumb over it. Louis sobs harder, tearing from the touch.

“I don't - I moved in with Harry - officially,” Louis cries, backing away from Zayn whilst shaking his head in disgust, “You can have whatever is still left here.”

“Lou, please. I'm so sorry.”

Louis shakes his head. He loves Zayn more than anything, they've been through so much together, always them against the world growing up. But right now, Louis is dealing with things bigger than he can wrap his mind around, and it is so heavy on his shoulders; hands blistering and mind spinning as he tries to put one person back together whilst still keeping himself intact. He doesn't like to think that the aftermath of what happened to Harry is life-sucking, but it is. It is also Harry, though, and Harry always kisses all the life and more right back into him. And right now, he needs Harry. He needs to get away from Zayn and get to Harry. His Harry.

He walks right out the door, ignoring Zayn, ignoring the loud crash he hears once he is down the hallway and every cuss word that string out of his mouth. He’s crying, he knows he is. He can feel it, not only physically, but mentally. He feels everything ripping him apart inside, water leaking out of every pore and every vein, more emptying than bottles shattering with dripping alcohol.

As soon as he opens the door back to their flat, Harry is looking up from the couch. He has a glass of strawberry milk next to him and he is in one of Louis’ t-shirts. It is short on his never ending torso, showing the edges of his soft tummy and hips, pure white panties hugging him loosely.

Louis still feels the tears slipping from his eyes as Harry’s eyebrows furrow and he is standing up. “Babe, are you alright?”

Louis shakes his head. His knuckles feel like they are throbbing, just like the rest of him. He is tired of always being strong and always being there. He is just so _tired_.

So tired.

He feels so small and vulnerable when Harry walks over to him.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks softly, not touching Louis, but he is close enough to see how red his eyes are and the way his shoulders are slumping.

“Need you,” Louis chokes out, and he does. He needs him so bad right now as he chews his lip. He knows what he needs. He has been so stressed lately. It’s killing him, it feels.

Harry pouts knowingly. “Oh baby,” he murmurs. And fuck, Louis thinks, his lips - so full and pink and pouty -, “I’ll take care of you.”

Before Louis knows it, Harry is kissing down his neck, so softly, barely grazing his skin with his teeth before sucking gently, taking Louis’ breath straight from his throat. His hands are all over him; on Louis’ face, his shoulders, his back - arching into Harry's chest - his arse, grabbing handfuls of it through his sweats, pulling Louis closer, closer, closer and rolling their hips together in unison, seeking out sweeping slews of friction.

Louis whimpers and Harry looks back up to him, kissing over his cheeks, wiping over them to get rid of the dried tears, bumping his nose to Louis’.

“I hate to see you like this, Louis,” he whispers over Louis' lips, one hand gripping his hip and the other running up and down his stomach under Louis’ shirt, making Louis’ stomach swirl on the inside, muscles fluttering under the gentle touch of Harry’s lotion-soft hands and manicured fingernails, “wanna make you feel better.”

Louis’ eyes flit close. He forgets it all, forgets every fucking thing that has been building up in him, everything that's crushing and compacting his being, and lets Harry's fingers trail down to the front of his sweats. He lets him palm softly over his hardening dick, his lips kissing his own just as soft as his touch.

“I love you,” Louis murmurs, trying to press his lips closer, trying to lock them together forever, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck, “so fucking much, Harry.”

Harry smiles against his lips, biting down softly and pulling a surprised whimper from Louis as he darts his tongue over his lip and soothes the nibble. “Go sit down, yeah?” he murmurs finally.

That is all the convincing Louis needs as he shakily settles onto the couch, his cock hard and prominent in his sweats, a clean outline pushing through the fabric of them as Harry opens up his knees and settles between them on the floor.

Fingers are running up his thighs and then back down again, squeezing here and there as Harry nibbles at his stomach, pushing his shirt up with his nose - teasing- Harry is always such a fucking tease and Louis bathes in it, he does.

Harry's hands finally trail to the top of Louis’ sweats, making sure to look right into Louis’ blown-out eyes as he pulls them down, along with his pants beneath. Louis’ cock is flushed dark, slapping and curving against his stomach, and Harry wastes no time in putting his lips to it.

He sucks the head in between his lips, moving in circular motions as his tongue flicks against the slit, making little gasps fall from Louis’ lips at the sharp buzz of it that fleets through his body, all the way to his fingertips. Harry pops off, licking down the underside, eyes closed as if he is savouring the taste that is Louis; that covers his cock, and his skin, and his beautiful body.

He pulls up, looking up to Louis with wide eyes as he puckers his lips, letting his spit trickle out and down his chin, dripping over the head of Louis’ cock. He squeezes Louis harder at the base of his length, tugging slowly as he dribbles over the red tip, making Louis nice and wet and slick between his fingertips.

“Oh fuck - Harry.”

Louis can't help but buck up into Harry's tight fist, eyes closing as he lets out a broken moan. Harry is making him feel so good- so nice, with his wide fucking eyes and gorgeous cock-sucking lips. He feels so fucking capital right now, like no matter what, and no matter in what way, Harry will take just as much care of him as he would do in return. Whether it's in cuddles, words, food, or sucking him off as a fucking distraction, they'd do it for each other and that's what is so fucking great about them.

He’s caught off-guard when Harry's lips trail back down the underside of his cock, mouthing hot wet kisses against one of the prominent veins of his dick, and then he slips further down, sucking gently on his balls, making strings of gasps and ‘Mm Harry’s' fall from his bitten lips.

He can't be damned to give a shit about anything but Harry's lips, and Harry's tongue, and Harry's hands, and fucking _Harry._

Before he knows it, the tip of his cock is hitting the back of Harry's throat - sliding in and out of his mouth, his throat - gagging him, making tears well in his eyes, but Harry takes him deeper, leaves his eyes open so he can watch Louis’ face despite the tears that pool in the hollows. He watches every shuddered breath, scrunch of his eyes - Harry loves it just as much. Loves the way Louis’ cock feels in his mouth, the way it stretches his throat, the taste of his precum dripping onto his tongue.

He moans deeply, making Louis’ cock fucking shudder in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head for good measures before pulling off. “Want you to fuck my mouth,” he rasps, making Louis whine, “fuck it hard.”

He attaches his lips back to Louis’ cock, opening his mouth wide and hollowing his cheeks as Louis stares at him stunned, the way the curse words drip from his lips, as he almost _begs_  for it. It is so fucking much. Harry is always too fucking much.

(And for a moment, Louis wonders who in the hell would ever take advantage of this boy, how could he not be good enough.)

But for now, he shakes those thoughts away. It is Harry and him, no one else. It is going to be Harry and him and no one else, too. Everything is okay, _this_ is okay, he reminds himself as he gently tangles his fingers in Harry's curls, slowly starting to thrust into his hot fucking mouth, not wanting to hurt him. He completely forgets about his other bruised fist.

He sits up a bit, bringing Harry's head harder down onto his leaking cock, watching as Harry palms over himself in his tight little fucking panties. He is heavy and leaking between his own legs, so hard that the tip of his cock is poking out from the top of the most innocent of panties, a harsh red against the chaste colour. Louis moans at the sight of how obscene it is, furrowing his eyebrows as the heat from Harry's mouth transfers to a heat pooling in his stomach.

His eyes roll to the back of his head and he lays back against the aft of the couch again, head lolling back as his hips roll with his cock going in and out of Harry's mouth. The only noises in the room are Louis’ whimpers, Harry's gagging on Louis’ cock, and the voice of James May from the TV, a rerun of Top Gear playing lightly in the background.

“Fuck Harry- _princess_ \- your mouth is fucking sinful,” Louis grunts, pulling Harry off so he can get a proper breath, and Louis just- _fuck_ \- Louis really wants to kiss him. So he fucking does. He leans down and kisses him rough on the lips. He can feel Harry's spit and his own precum rubbing against his chin from where it is dripping down Harry's. Harry is breathing hard through his nose, but he never breaks the kiss, wanting all of Louis, every piece of him. He’s more important than air right now because he is so hard and needy and this is _Louis_.

“Fucking beautiful baby, you're fucking amazing,” Louis growls against his lips, holding him close by the neck. Harry moans into his mouth, tongue licking over Louis’ lips and Louis nips it with his teeth, sucking it obscenely into his mouth, opening his eyes to watch Harry's own flutter.

Harry’s hand pumps him faster, flicking his wrist and running the pad of his thumb over his slit, smearing the precum over the tip. Louis pulls away from the kiss to pant in the crook of Harry's neck, still holding him tight against himself, against his chest, which is hot against his own through their t-shirts, running one of his hands down Harry's back and kneading his fingers into his pert, little arse of soft, milky skin.

At one moment they are both kissing each other’s neck, sucking the skin into their mouths and leaving small little marks, moaning and panting against each other’s ears, eyelashes fluttering against each other’s skin.

“Fucking hell, Harry. M’gonna come.”

And it is all too much. Harry always fucking is, and that is why it is so exciting. The way he touches Louis, the way he breathes over his skin, the sweet scent that covers his body and radiates into Louis’ pores, sinking into his body. Harry knows how to touch, knows how to use his mouth and tongue. It kills Louis to think how he got so good, but he is safe here, it’s okay.

Harry tears away from Louis, settling back between his legs, taking his hand away from his own cock to rub against Louis’ stomach, feeling his muscles flutter with each hard tug, flick, and pull of his cock. He leans down and licks a stripe up the underside and then back down, sucking one of his balls into his mouth again, tightening his fist around Louis.

Louis gasps loudly, the heat pooling in his stomach bubbling over, eyes clenching closed, and eyebrows lining as he lets out a breathless moan, coming hard, hard, _harder_  with only the word ‘Harry’ on his lips.

After a few moments he opens his eyes to see Harry’s face covered in his come; in his eyelashes, on his lips, across his cheek. He groans, motioning for Harry to get on his lap lazily with his hand.

Harry straddles his thighs, pumping his own cock fast and needily with his gorgeously painted nails and long fucking fingers. Louis just watches breathlessly, taken away by how beautiful Harry is and how pretty his cock looks. So dark and red and ready for release. Louis brings his thumb up to swipe over the tip, smearing the precum that is bubbling over the top and leaking down the underside.

“Come on me,” he whispers, “it’s only fair since I came all over that pretty face of yours.”

Harry whimpers, biting his lip as Louis’ thumb rubs circles into his soft and shaved thighs, mesmerised by how pretty his boy is, how perfect.

“C’mon princess,” Louis urges quietly, feeling so warm and dazed, “come for me.”

And that is all it takes before Harry’s breath is getting cut off and his hand is faltering on his cock, thighs trembling as hot white ropes are covering Louis’ chest and neck, a bit even reaching his chin.

Harry falls against Louis, eyes closed as he catches his breath, slowly stroking the orgasm from himself. Louis pushes his curls back, slightly dampened by sweat. He wipes his thumb over his cheek, wiping the come off. Right before he rubs it on his shirt Harry grabs his wrist, wrapping his lips around his thumb and sucking the come off, making Louis groan from how fucking sinful he looks.

“Perfect baby, so perfect,” Louis murmurs in lack of better words, “thank you so much.”

Harry smiles warmly, eyes glossy. He is heavy and lazy against Louis, and he murmurs, “Gonna tell me why you were upset?”

“Zayn and stuff, nothing you need to worry about, love.”

Harry nods breathlessly, shifting in Louis’ lap to get comfortable.

Louis smiles, carefully pushing Harry's boyish mess of curls from his face, “You're so perfect, you know that?”

Harry freezes, pulls back, and grabs Louis’ arm, “Your fist.”

Louis’ eyes widen. “It’s n-”

Harry draws back more, fear in his eyes. “You - you didn't hit him, did you?”

“Harry, _god_ , of course not. I-I punched the wall.”

Louis feels tears bubbling in his chest, as Harry cautiously relaxes in his lap again. “Why?” he whispers.

“He just kept saying awful things about someone he shouldn't have been, okay? I'm so sorry, I don't know why I even did it,” Louis sighs, so worried about what Harry is thinking, “hurts like hell, to be honest.”

Harry shakes his head, running his fingers gently over Louis' knuckles. “You need to ice it right now, Lou, for at least 15 minutes. I-I can go get anti-inflam-”

Louis squeezes Harry's hand gently, despite it hurting, because right now he hurts more on the inside than anything, because Harry's been through this, he has dealt with it again and again.

“All I wanna do right now is take a nap with my beautiful boy, that's what will make me feel best,” Louis smiles, still feeling overwhelmed from his orgasm, (and Harry, and this.) He rubs his thumb over Harry's thigh, watching as Harry's cheeks brighten and he looks down shyly.

(When they are cuddled in their bed and Harry's head is placed gently on Louis' chest, and Louis is holding him close, inhaling the familiar smell of him, Harry whispers:

“I don't want you to hurt.”

And Louis replies:

“That's how I feel about you every day.”

And he pretends that he doesn't feel the burning tears of Harry slip onto his bare skin.)

 


	2. lumière, darling. lumière over me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!!!!!
> 
> 1\. TRIGGER WARNINGS.  
> this is the part that will have the highest amount of trigger warnings. trigger warnings for rape and abuse and bad relationships. please. pleasee.pleassee be careful reading.
> 
> 1.5 smsmsUUUT get reADY for the smmuUTtt smutty smUUUTttttTT. kinky kINky smmutututttt
> 
>  
> 
>    
> [tumblr](http://wankerville.tumblr.com/)  
> snapchat: wankerville

**i.**

“Christ mate, they have flavours as strange as ‘placenta’ and ‘balls dipped in gravy,’ and you get sodding vanilla. Not vanilla with _sprinkles_ , or vanilla with _chocolate_ , just plain ‘ol bloody vanilla,” Niall shakes his head in complete and utter disbelief, throwing his hand in the air, and Louis kicks him from under the picnic table for it.

“If he wants vanilla then he can have vanilla. For god’s sake, Niall.”

Harry laughs, still happily eating his vanilla ice cream, watching Niall and Louis argue.

“I'm just saying," Niall says in defence, "why the hell pay 4.99 for fucking vanilla, when for the same price you can have a waffle cone, double-dipped in gold, with bloody m&m’s on top.”

Louis rolls his eyes, reaching over and slapping Niall's cheek this time instead of kicking him. Harry chokes on his ice cream, quickly grabbing a napkin and snorting into it as Louis leans over to him this time and plants a sloppy kiss to his dimpled cheek.

“You can eat all the vanilla ice cream you want,” Louis coos dramatically, “don't need no gold dipped placenta,” he adds, kicking Niall again just because he can.

“You two are disgusting, I don't know why I even decided to come out with you.”

Harry pouts, ice cream smeared over his lips.

“Well, Harry's cute,” Niall shakes his head, “but Louis, God, I’m gonna need a knee surgery after today, fucking kicking me so much, christ.”

Louis rolls his eyes, contemplating whether or not to kick Niall again. He decides against it, only because Harry’s vanilla ice cream cone is practically beckoning him to take a bite of it, and despite having his own ice cream, he can’t resist leaning forward and licking over it to get a kick out of Harry.

“Heeey,” Harry drags out, pulling his ice cream back with a cute pout, lines between his eyebrows. Louis holds out his tongue, vanilla ice cream dripping in his mouth.

“If you dare lick that out of his mouth, I will stab the both of you,” Niall says, reaching over the table and slamming Louis' jaw shut.

“Is that what they teach you in law school?”

“Oi, Louis. Next time you hit someone with a car I’m not going to be there in your defence. Pay some other bloke to be your lawyer.”

Louis rolls his eyes, licking his own banana dipped chocolate cone as Harry looks to him, shocked, “You've hit someone with a car?”

“Was Zayn, no big deal.”

“Speaking of Zayn,” Niall starts, ignoring the very clear look Louis gives him not to go into it, “he really wants to talk to you.”

“Okay.”

“Lou, he is your best friend, you can't just keep ignoring him. Plus, he keeps interrupting my beauty sleep,” Niall bats his eyes, making Louis snort.

“Maybe if you didn't sleep at one in the afternoon you wouldn't find it so annoying.”

Niall opens his mouth to reply when his phone starts vibrating on the wooden table. He picks it up, reading who it is and then shoving it in Louis’ face. “See,” he whispers, “he is always calling and asking about you.”

“Why are you whispering,” Louis whispers back.

Niall looks around, ignoring his phone. “He might hear us.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Niall,” Louis takes the cell phone, handing Niall his ice cream in return to hold for him, and answering the phone. “Hi Zayn, long time no chat. Niall is tired of you calling him all the time, so,” Louis pauses, pursing his lips, “stop?”

Harry glares at him, mouthing a stern ‘ _don't_.’

Louis sighs, and then kicks Niall again when he sees him licking at his ice cream.

“Lou, where are you, why have you been ignoring me?” Zayn says through the phone line. In the background Louis can hear Liam asking if he finally got a hold of him.

“Jesus Christ, Z, it’s been three days.”

“Three days of getting woken up, mind you,” Niall adds. Louis can see Harry trying not to laugh out of the corner of his eye, and yeah, Niall is a fucking twat, but if he makes Harry laugh then he can stay. Louis kind of adores Niall, too. Not that he would ever admit it.

“Do you even realise what you told me, Louis?”

Louis sighs again, the sinking feeling washing over his stomach all over again. He just wanted one day of getting away from it. One day of hanging with his boyfriend, and his mate, and just having carefree fun without thinking about what's always on his mind.

Louis stands up from the table, holding a finger up to the boys, and walking off to the side, “Zayn-”

“No, Louis, I’m serious. Do you know how shitty I’ve felt? How selfish? Fuck.”

Louis runs his hand through his fringe. The summer sun is shining down and a nice layer of sweat is glistening over his skin. He sighs, “Zayn, he told me not to tell anyone.”

There is a pause. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll do anything for him, Zayn. I love him a fucking lot, okay?” he looks back to the picnic table to see Niall smearing ice cream over Harry's cheek. Harry's face is a pretty red from laughing despite the cool cream that covers it. He laughs long and hard,and Louis finds that his heart starts thumping harder, a small smile filling his own face as he watches his boy be so happy and carefree. The subtle thought of making Niall his best man pops into his head, and then he is shaking his head, telling himself _‘no, you shouldn't be thinking of marriage right now, you haven’t even been dating for a god damn year.’_

“I’m sorry, Lou,” Zayn starts, “I just hate seeing you get hurt. I mean, you were painting your nails and never coming home, and like, so protective of him, from the beginning. Remember when you first invited him over? You weren’t even dating then.”

“Yeah,” Louis trails off, “I didn’t even know then. I just- it’s really intense, y’know? I’ve never felt this way before, and like- I don't know, okay?”

Zayn breathes out, “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Louis copies, and Zayn sighs.

“Is-is he okay?”

Louis looks back over to him and Niall, clearly laughing and chatting about something. He thinks about saying ‘yes’ in that moment, he doesn’t say anything though.

“Louis?” Zayn says again, “c’mon, talk to me boobear.”

Louis groans, “I thought we agreed you couldn’t call me that after we turned 18.”

“It’s a special occasion, boo,” Zayn says seriously, “now please, is he alright?”

Louis gulps. He feels the word ‘no,’ itching up his throat. He feels it clawing its way over his tongue. He hears it, in small whimpers from a young Harry, trying to stop him, Mark, that fucking bastard, from touching him. He hears it all so clearly. “No,” he whispers.

He hears a heavy breath through the phone line, “Lou-” he cuts off, “how are _you_ doing?”

Louis can’t cry now, not when the two of them are sitting just right over there. He inhales. He exhales. “I don’t know how to fix him.”

There is a pause through the phone line and Louis almost wants to hang up. He wants to shred the wires and towers connecting their voices until he is alone, away from everything.

“Louis,” Zayn starts slowly, almost unsurely, “you can’t fix people. He isn’t like, a broken toy. He’s human.”

The heavy weight crushes Louis. Because he _knows_ , he fucking _knows_  he can’t. But to hear someone say it to him, it makes it so much more real. He just- he needs Harry to be okay. He wishes he could just wipe away all the bad memories, he wishes he could make him feel like himself again. But he can’t and it hurts so fucking much. It hurts like a noiseless piano, trying to play the tune of ‘this is my body, you have no right,’ but nothing is coming out.

“Lou?” Zayn asks quietly.

Louis blinks, looking up to keep himself from breaking down. “Yeah?”

“How about we hang out tonight, just you and me?”

A whiplash of emotions hit him, but he pushes them all away, except the one tiny reassuring voice, whispering ‘ _now there’s your best friend_.’

“That’d be nice, yeah,” he replies. He can feel himself smiling. He can feel a lot of things, but right now he focuses on himself just smiling.

“Alright, I’ll text you later then,” he pauses, “and I really am sorry, Lou. I was just trying to look out for you.”

Louis snorts, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I know, you sappy tosser.”

“And never ignore me like that again, you prick. That’s the longest we’ve gone without making up after a fight.”

“Okay, okay. I know, Zayn. I’m sorry too.” He hears Zayn ‘hmph’ through the phone, and he smiles, “Well, I'm out with Harry and Niall right now, so.”

“Wait, does Ni know?”

“Yeah,” Louis pauses, “I went to him because of the whole law thing, and well, because he’s Niall.”

Zayn hums in response, “Well, I like, told Liam.”

“S’fine, just - don't talk about it or anything, okay? He doesn't know I told anyone.”

“Oh, Lou.”

“I know," Louis sighs. "I-I gotta go. I love you Zayn, so stop being a prat.”

“Louis, you know you're the prat in this relationship.”

Louis laughs, hitting the ‘end’ button before walking back to the picnic table.

Harry looks up to Louis with bright eyes and Niall blinks at him guiltily.

“You ate my ice cream, didn't you?”

“You gave it to me,” Niall says in defence.

“I saved your beauty sleep.”

Niall threw his hands up in relief, “So it’s settled then.”

Behind the humour, Louis can see that Niall is really asking.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Niall nods with a small smile and Louis thinks that is as genuine as he’ll get right now. “Well thanks for using my minutes, I'll be sending you the phone bill at the end of the month.”

Louis snorts, kicking Niall another time. It makes Harry laugh for the umpteenth time today, and he watches Louis with glimmering eyes, handing his half-eaten ice cream cone to Louis, and tangling their hands together over the table.

*

Harry’s in the kitchen when Louis stumbles out of their bedroom, buttoning his jeans up with only one shoe on. Harry glances up to him curiously from his laptop, a recipe on the screen as he stirs something that smells sweet and fruity on their tiny stovetop.

“What’ya doin’, babe?” Harry asks simply, snickering as he watches Louis hop around on one foot, trying to get the back of his shoe to slip over his heel, “and you know you can untie your laces, right?”

Louis rolls his eyes, slipping it over after a few more moments. He steps down on the shoe hard, wiggling his foot around to get it in just right. “Zayn wants to hang out tonight, like a ‘just me and him’ thing. I don’t know...” Louis trails off, as he steps closer to Harry and peers into the pot. “I was going to ask if that’s alright… wow, that smells really good. What are you making?” Louis goes to dip his finger into the pot and Harry smacks his hand away, scowling.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?” Harry shakes his head, turning the stove off and moving the pot of what smells like tropical heaven to the side.

“Sorry,” Louis says, poking his lower lip out in a ridiculous pout. Harry tries not to indulge him, he does, but he just can’t resist himself when he leans down and gives him a gentle kiss.

Harry looks back to his laptop screen, finger trailing over the words of the next set of directions. He bites his lip with a furrow between his eyebrows. Quickly, he moves to the cupboards to the right, opening one of the drawers and digging around for the whisk. “I’m making some scones, by the way. I’ve only made chocolate ones before, so I don't know how these are going to turn out.”

Louis hums out thoughtfully, “I love when you talk baker to me.”

Harry snorts, pulling down the different tubs full of flours, sugars, and other ingredients. “The many kinks of Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis doesn’t know where the loud bark of laughter comes from, but he can’t help but feel overwhelmed in this happiness. He was serious when he said he loved hearing Harry talk about baking, he was. He loves how equally concentrated and passionate he sounds. It’s really kind of beautiful.

“Oh, and Lou?”

Louis raises an eyebrow right as his phone starts going off. He looks down, seeing Zayn’s name.

“You don't need to ask me if you can hang out with your friends. Like I said before, we don’t have to do everything together.”

Louis knows.

“Seriously,” Harry urges with a smile, shooing at Louis with his hand, “get out of here.”

Louis can’t help to beam, watching Harry roll his eyes and turn back to his laptop. Before he leaves, he gives Harry a tight hug, whispering: “Call me if you need anything.”

“And you be safe.”

Both of them know that that is their ways of saying, ‘ _I love you._ ’

*

Louis meets Zayn on campus in front of the university’s marble statue. It's ten ‘till six and only a hair darker that earlier, the sun slowly sliding down the sky. When Louis gets close enough, he can make out the smirk that's playing across Zayn’s face. Louis raises an eyebrow, pulling his hands from where they’re tucked in his jeans pockets, “What’s that smirk for, Malik?”

Zayn shrugs, “Oh I don’t know,” he starts, turning and walking around the statue, “it’s just that,” he walks back around, coming into Louis’ view, “I found these two skateboards.”

Louis. _Oh._

He can feel his grin spread through his entire body, because it’s just- this is the reason Zayn’s his best friend.

“You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.” Zayn says, raising his eyebrows. He tosses one of the boards to Louis, and Louis catches it reflexively, as if he never stopped skating when his uni work and past jobs took up the majority of his time.

He turns the board over in his hands, it’s still the same board it was nearly two years ago. It has all the same scratches, marks, chips. The top of it is still the same worn black, thick, sand-papery feel against his palms. His favourite part, the bottom. It’s all white, except the black cursive that spells out his name across it. He remembers him and Zayn spending an entire summer doing yard work around the neighbourhood to get enough money to get them both matching custom made boards with their names on the bottoms.

“You said I could keep whatever was left,” Zayn shrugs, “found it stuffed under your bed.”

“I completely forgot about it,” Louis says, looking up to Zayn, “also didn’t think you’d actually snoop through all the garbage under my bed.”

Zayn snorts, “I wasn’t snooping, me and Li ran out of condoms and I knew you’d have a full box stuffed somewhere in there.

“Oh sod off.” Louis flips him the bird, dropping the board to the ground and putting one of his feet on it.

“You look scared,” Zayn comments, still holding onto his own board.

“Well no shit. I feel like an eighty year old trying to stand up,” he moves the board with his foot, getting use to the wheels on the sleek pavement.

“Ha, like the first and only time Li tried skateboarding.”

Louis barks out a loud laugh, “He busted his arse, jesus christ.”

“Think we can get him on one now?” Zayn asks, finally dropping his own board. He doesn’t step on it though, instead he slips out the pack of cigs from his back pocket and pulls one out.

“Maybe if you're naked on one,” Louis replies casually as Zayn lights up, “I swear, the only reason he stopped being a prissy-baby and actually gave it a try was to impress you, bad boy.”

“Ha,” Zayn laughs sarcastically, taking a drag from his cig and getting on his board, “because ‘m such a bad boy.”

Louis watches as Zayn starts moving, slowly skating in zig-zags to get used to it again, “Well compared to our little straight-A-ed Liam, then yeah. I mean c’mon,” Louis threw his hand up, motioning to Zayn who raised his eyebrows, cig between his lips, “you were this chain-smoking, black-wearing, first-of-all-of-us-to-lose-his-virginity hottie. Liam had it baaad.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, ignoring Louis. “C’mon, you gonna get on that thing or what?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hold your cigs, bad boy Malik.” He takes a deep breath, carefully getting on his board. Surprisingly, it feels like nothing has changed. Skateboarding use to be like breathing to him, and he supposes you never really do forget how to breathe.

“Li isn’t as innocent as you think he is, y’know,” Zayn chimes in suddenly. He throws his cig butt down in front of him on the pavement, and then carefully rolls over it.

“Of course you’re saying that, you’ve been bumming him for months now.” Louis rolls further ahead of Zayn on the path they silently agreed to follow, he turns his head back to see Zayn picking up the cigarette butt and stuffing it into his pocket. He also watches as Zayn pulls out another one, putting it between his lips and lighting it, before starting back on his board.

“No really,” he mumbles around the smoke between his lips, “he’s the one that even made the first move.”

Louis chokes at that, swerving on his board and losing his balance. He falls to the pavement with about as much grace as Harry has just walking around with his lanky body and yeti limbs.

Zayn can’t help but to burst out laughing, quickly grabbing his smoke to keep it from falling from his lips and stopping his board with his heel.

Louis simply hisses, the thought of beating the shit out of his mate with his skateboard crossing his mind more than once at the moment. It also crosses his mind that he really regrets wearing a muscle t-shirt, a decent sized road-rash scraping over the skin on his arm. “Fuck,” he curses.

Zayn’s still laughing when he skates by Louis to see the damage. His eyes scan over Louis. “You and Harry really need to invest in another pair of black jeans, looks like you tore the tenth hole in this pair.”

Louis groans, because they have seven pairs of black jeans and they all have holes except one pair. He doesn’t say that though, instead he slaps Zayn’s leg from his weak position on the ground. He winces though, feeling like his skin is on fire where he scraped it off. “I could have a knife in my head and the only damn thing you would notice is the holes in my jeans.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, stepping off his board and kneeling in front of Louis, “C’mon mate,” he says seriously, “lemme see it then.”

This use to be them. Sneaking out as young sixteen year olds on their boards. They would skate, fall, laugh at each other, but always care for one another in the end. It’s the underlying love behind all the teasing and sarcasm that glues their friendship together.

Louis sighs, giving Zayn a small smile as a sign he won’t hit him if he grabs his arm. Zayn does too. He holds Louis’ shoulder, putting his half burnt cig between his lips and grabbing Louis by his elbow, moving his arm. A strong feeling washes over Louis, he can’t quite pinpoint what it is, he just knows it’s overwhelming. He thinks of Harry, and how he doesn’t have friends like this, and he thinks of himself, and how he has taken advantage of his friendships. He can’t help but to think the reason Harry urges him to hang out with his other friends is because he doesn’t have friends like that, and he doesn’t want Louis to end up losing the ones he has.

“Fuck it,” Louis murmurs quietly, finding himself taking the cigarette between Zayn’s lips and putting it between his own. Zayn smiles down at him, carefully brushing off the gravel that is sticking to his rash.

It isn’t unusual, well, it is now, but before, Louis and Zayn use to smoke together all the time. In fact, he still considers Zayn to be his first kiss, even though it was mostly unintentional. It was from when they were trying to figure out how to shotgun. He remembers Zayn inhaling the smoke, and then leaning in and opening his mouth wide, matching Louis’. It was fucking ridiculous, really, mouth’s as wide as they would go pressed together, looking like Noo-Noo from the fucking teletubbies. But then they ended up with closed lips, and Zayn just kept leaving small, gentle kisses, his hand on the back of Louis’ neck. Thinking back on it, he doesn’t think he’d ever want his first kiss to be any other way, or with anyone else.

Louis takes the cigarette from his mouth and slowly lets the smoke slip from his lips. He inhales it back in through his nose, feeling it wash down his lungs. He’s surprised he doesn’t cough, because he never got addicted to smoking the way Zayn did, and god knows how long it’s been since he’s had one.

“Cleaned the dirt and shit off of it, but you better get Harry to put some alcohol on it. Looks painful as shit, road burns are the worst.” Zayn smiles sympathetically, taking the cigarette that Louis is moving to put between his lips again, and grinding it into the pavement. “Don’t want you smoking laying down,” he holds his hand out for Louis so he can help him sit up, “don’t want you smoking at all, actually. Harry’ll make you brush your teeth before ever kissing you again.”

Louis laughs, grabbing his board and setting it back down on its wheels. He sits down on top of it, copying what Zayn is doing in front of him. He smiles, swishing back and forth, knees crossed lazily and palms pressed to the up-curved edges, “Is that what Liam does?”

Zayn probably doesn’t mean to, but he does. A deep blush covers his cheeks and he mumbles, “Something like that.”

Louis squints at Zayn. He knows that look. He does. “Spill.”

Zayn pretends to look confused, looking up at the sky. It’s getting a bit darker out now, mostly just the bright day-light fading to an evening blue colour. It isn’t cool out at all, but a gentle breeze rustles the trees around them that scatter the campus, and it dulls the muggy heat that sits on their skin.

“C’mooon Zaaayn,” Louis drags out, being careful not to move his arm with the burn, “we’re best mates. You tell me everything. You even told me your secret method of masturbation.”

“Humping a pillow isn’t a secret method,” Zayn retorts, “I was 12 and didn’t know how to properly wank.”

“I know,” Louis snickers, “the point _is_ , is that you always tell me everything. Even if it’s embarrassing.” Louis feels the burn on his arm and realises why he fell in the first place, “I can’t believe Li made the first move.”

Zayn’s blush only deepens, and this is Louis’ favourite Zayn. The shy and blushing one that tries to roll their eyes and scowl even though it just makes them look even more timid.

“Aw, was little Zaynie scared?” Louis can’t help it. He hasn’t had the privilege to do this in a long time, and it feels good. It also feels good to reach over and grabs Zayn’s red cheeks, squishing them as coos spill from his lips.

“Oh toss off,” Zayn mumbles, slapping Louis’ hands away.

Louis pouts now, “Zayn, c’mon, talk to me.”

He can hear the heavy inhale and exhale Zayn makes, and then Zayn is looking back at him with a somewhat ponder-looking face. “I’ll only tell you if you promise we can get together and try to do this once every week.”

Louis feels ecstatic. Not because Zayn will tell him, but because Zayn wants to do this again and again. Skating is just refreshing to him, always has been, and so is Zayn. He thinks he needs this.

Louis mostly can’t believe Zayn is making him compromise, not that he doesn’t quite like it, but practically growing up with each other  taught them to keep the things they say to each other, to each other, and they always wanted to tell each other. They’re like each other’s confessionals, except less bullshit-y and there are no muttered words like: ‘father, please forgive me.’ It’s more like tons of sarcastic laughs, and even more muttered ‘jesus christ’s,’ as ironic as it is.

So, the point is, he can’t help it when, “I was hoping you’d want to do this again,” slips from his mouth and into the air around them.

Zayn lets out another heavy breath, one that Louis didn't even notice he was holding, “Thank god. I really need to get away from Liam sometimes, he falls into these weird moods, probably something to do with all the shifts at the hospital and med school shit. I need to complain to someone about the little bitch he can turn into.”

Louis snorts, “What about Niall, can’t go to him?”

“Then I’d have to listen to him bitch about law. Seriously, Lou, I’m so glad you don't want to go into some complicated, eighty years of schooling career.”

“Yes, well, after eighty years of school, I’m sure they’re going to be the ones getting the biggest check at the end of the month. I’ll be in a flat whilst you're living sky-high in some fancy mansion with your surgeon boyfriend.

“He doesn’t want to be a surgeon.”

Louis rolls his eyes. Zayn clearly doesn’t see his point. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever weird doctor thing he wants to be, I don't care.”

“Wow, thanks.” Zayn mutters sarcastically in defensive of his apparently bitchy boyfriend. Zayn confuses Louis sometimes, but maybe that’s just because he’s spent too much time with Harry and not enough time with his best friend.

“Well I do care about something, that being this weird thing you obviously aren’t telling me.”

“Guess.”

Louis wasn’t expecting that as an answer, but he accepts it. He repositions himself, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on them. He slowly pushes at the ground, steadily rocking his board back and forth.

“Something to do with…. art?”

“Nope.”

“Crime?”

“Nada.”

“Um, fuck. I feel like I don’t know anything you do anymore.”

“Clearly,” Zayn snorts.

Louis rolls his eyes, “Sex?”

He half expects another ‘no,’ but maybe that’s because all he really hears are faint ‘no’s’ being screamed around him. He hears a soft, ‘Yeah,” instead though.

“Ooo,” Louis wags his eyebrows, “does he have a micro-penis?”

“How did we even start talking about this?” Zayn mutters.

“Something about Liam not being innocent, blah blah blah, he sucked your dick first, you blushed about something, got that weird look,” Louis drones on, “but seriously, does he have a micro-penis?”

Zayn stares at Louis blankly, saying flatly, “No, he doesn’t have a micro-dick, you twat.”

Louis feels disappointed almost. “Damn,” he mutters, then: “Do you think Niall still remembers that bet we made when we were 13. The one where I bet 2 weeks of my labour that Liam had a small willy.”

“No, but I’m considering reminding him.”

Louis rolls his eyes again, “Does it have anything to do with the cross-dressing then? Because I don’t know if you remember or not, but I’m the one who got you both into that,” he waggles his eyebrows.

Zayn pops his lips, and that’s their shared sign that it’s a ‘yes.’

“So, what? Is he secretly like, slutty as fuck or something? I don't know, Liam seems like one of them who is either way too kinky in bed or really boring.”

“It’s not the latter.”

Louis chokes out a laughter, “Seriously? What happened? Was the innocence all an act so he could get your dick in ‘em?”

This is where Zayn blushes again, mumbling, “He’s not the bottom.”

“What,” Louis states. His eyebrows are raised and he can feel the smirking covering his face, “all the teasing you gave me whenever I bottomed a boy and hobbled the school halls with a limp in my walk, to find out _you're_  the bottom.”

“Maybe if you would have told me how good it felt I wouldn’t have taken the piss out of you so much.”

“Maybe,” Louis starts mockingly, (he doesn't even notice the wound on his arm anymore,) “if you would have stopped taking the piss out of me for more than 10 seconds, I could have told you how good it felt.”

“You’re awful, this is why I don’t tell you things.” Zayn pulls out his pack again, sliding out another cig and thumbing at his lighter.

Louis can’t help but to tease just a little further, curiously prying for more details. “Does that mean you're the lace wearer?”

Zayn simply nods, and Louis can’t help but to think his best mate actually looks quite cute at the moment. He has pink cheeks and smoke down his lungs. The contradictory of it all is just so interesting. Louis almost feels guilty for thinking it too, because he thinks he should be more concerned for his mate’s health, but he’s had the same smoke swirling in his lungs, so he doesn’t think he has the right to say anything. Besides, he knows Zayn. He knows that Zayn has a slight ‘whatever’ outlook on life. He knows he is going to die someday, and he wants to die doing what he loves. He just so happens to love the taste of smoke.

“What do you two do in bed, then? Are you real kinky or what?” Louis likes to tease, but he doesn’t want to make Zayn too embarrassed.

Zayn shrugs, “I don’t know. What about you and Curly? This isn’t one sided, y’know.”

The tightness that curls in Louis’ throat reappears. He tries to tell himself that Zayn knows. That Zayn is his best friend. That he can trust him. He knows it isn’t about Zayn, though. He knows this is really about Harry not being okay.

“Lou?”

It shakes him from his thoughts, and he looks down. “We haven’t- y’know.”

“Oh.”

 _Yeah_ , Louis thinks, _Oh._

He expects Zayn to start talking about it, prying for endless amounts of information that Louis can’t give him, and if not that, he expects an awkward silence. Neither happened.

Instead, Zayn quickly turns the conversation back around, “Me and Liam have a daddy kink.”

It’s so sudden and out of nowhere, and Louis has never been more thankful for Zayn, has never been so thankful that he has been blessed with a friend that knows when to ask the questions, and when not to.

“Sometimes he spanks me.”

Louis bites his lip. _Oh._

“Sometimes I like being called his good little boy.”

Louis wonders if he just stays quiet if Zayn will keep spilling things in fear that he upset Louis. Louis wonders if he should feel bad about that.

“I also like being called a naughty slut.”

Louis holds in his laughter, just seeing what else he can get out of Zayn.

“He doesn’t make me brush my teeth, he makes me suck his dick.”

“Okay, you can stop now,” Louis cackles. He can’t help it, because he knows he basically tricked his mate into telling him all this shit, “I’m gonna need a cig too if you keep putting these pictures in my head.”

“Ew, you're not supposed to think about them.”

Louis laughs again, deciding to stand up. He really can’t help it. “It’s just so hard Zaynie. The thought of you bent over Liam’s lap really gets me going.”

“You're disgusting.” Zayn murmurs, putting out his smoke and standing up as well. The sky is actually what you could consider dark now, and Louis guesses that it’s been a lot longer than what it feels like.

“You think Liam would be okay if me and Harry joined? I wouldn’t mind getting a good swatting.”

“God, just shut up.”

“I’m joking, jesus,” Louis says, adding, “the spanking thing is pretty hot, though.”

He steps back on his board. His mind wanders to Harry, and then back to Zayn. “I’m just wondering,” Louis starts shyly, almost, as if Zayn didn’t just telling him that he likes Liam to be his daddy, “do you wear, like, lady knickers all the time? Or just in bed?”

Zayn seems curious that Louis is asking. His eyes are wide, head tilting, “At first it was only in like, bed. But now I kind of like to wear them all the time?” he says it like a question, in the same way Harry does when he is making a statement that he is nervous about, and is subtly asking permission if that’s okay. It makes Louis a bit sad.

Louis just nods, though, ignoring the feeling. “So you’re wearing some now, then?”

He can hear Zayn swallow. Then he sees Zayn’s fingers fumbling with the button on his jeans, and can see him opening his jeans up enough to show Louis the print and edges. They are covered in leopard print and pink lace rims the edges. They’re nice, he thinks, but he likes Harry’s more. He likes the soft, innocent ones, when they are just this subtle kind of sexy. Louis thinks they look good on Zayn though, because Zayn has always liked the more blatantly sexy things in life.

“They look good, mate. You definitely pull ‘em off.”

“Thanks,” Zayn says happily. His smile is genuine as he buttons his jeans back up, and Louis smiles too, because he forgot how close they really are.

Louis pulls his phone out as Zayn pouts and reaches his hand down his pants, readjusting himself. He sees a text from Harry and it's a picture of a full batch of the French desserts he was baking. They look perfect and Louis can’t help but to smile. He also can’t help but to feel his mouth water.

Zayn rolls his eyes, “Go to your boy.”

Louis looks up, “Huh?”

“It’s getting late, you should get home to him,” Zayn pats Louis’ shoulder, careful of the burn, “next week we’re doing more skating, though. I wanna see if I can still go down the rail bars.”

“Deal. I wanna see you bust your arse.”

“Kinda like you did today, Lou?”

“Oh sod off.”

(When Louis skates home, he can’t help but to feel refreshed. Like a deep type of nostalgia mixed with a free feeling. It itches him to think it’s because he spent time away from Harry, but he knows that is what it is.

But when he walks through the door to their flat, he can’t help but to feel a whole new level of refreshing washing over him. Especially when he sees Harry sprawled over the couch, tv remote laying across his tummy, and legs bent up, letting them lay across the back of the couch. His bright smile welcomes him and Louis has never been happier to be home, he thinks.

He also thinks, that maybe to appreciate Harry more, he has to spend more time away from him. He still has to have his own life, that way when he takes the step back into their shared life, it will seem more breathtaking. He never really thought that Harry could get anymore breathtaking, but here he is, an hour or so away from him and feeling like it has been a month.

Harry immediately sees the road-burn on Louis’ upper arm, though, and after kissing Louis on the lips as an ‘ _I missed you_ ,’ he has Louis sitting on the bathroom counter, pouring the rubbing-alcohol over a flannel and dabbing it onto the wound. He lets Louis squeeze his shoulder at the sting of the pain, and Harry kisses his temple, gently telling him he’s _‘almost done, it’s almost over, don't worry baby.’_

When they’re all done and Louis is bandaged up, he immediately goes to the kitchen to try Harry’s newest treat. He furrows his eyebrows, looking at the platter.

“How come there is only five left, babe?”

“How come you never told me you're a skater?”

“Are they really so good you ate that many?”

“You also taste like smoke.”

“Oh, um,” Louis starts, “sometimes when I’m wi-”

Harry smiles gently, “You don’t need to explain,” and then his smile turns into soft concern, “just, I would really hope it doesn’t turn into a regular thing.”

“Never,” Louis says reassuringly, he looks back to the treats. “I’m going to eat one of these, then ‘m gonna go brush my teeth for you, and then I’m going to makeout with you for the rest of the night, sound good?”

Harry tries to bite back his smile, “Perfect.”

 

 

**ii.**

“Harry, what did he do to you baby?”

Louis can feel Harry tense beside him from where they’re cuddling on the couch, a lazy Sunday full of 80’s movies and salty snacks.

“Can we please not talk about this?”

“I promise you can tr-”

“I really don’t want to talk about this, Lou,” he says more firmly.

“Will you at least tell me why you don’t want to talk about it?”

He can feel Harry shaking. He can feel Harry’s body breaking beneath his skin, can see his jaw moving as he chews the words ‘no,’ and ‘stop,’ and ‘it’s okay,’ into silences. Then, he is getting up.

“What’re you doing?” Louis asks worriedly. He watches Harry slip his shoes on. He’s only in a pair of shorts and a white, stained shirt. Louis bites his lip so, so worried, “W-where are you going?” Harry has never just- left. He never leaves. Louis doesn’t know where he would go. He can feel his heart pressing against his ribs. He can feel himself forgetting how to breathe.

“Harry, babe,” he says softly, trying not to sound like he is pleading, “it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me, just come sit down.”

Harry’s hand grips the doorknob, knuckles turning white under the heavy grasp.

“I’m used, Louis,” he says bitterly, “I’m used, and disgusting, and just another hand-me-down. I’m fucking used.”

Louis can’t move. He knows he’s trying to, he knows he can feel himself trying to get up and run after Harry to see if he’s okay, to see where he is going, but his body won’t fucking move, it won’t react. The hurt Louis is feeling is like when you wake up from a dream and realise it isn’t reality. Except, instead it isn’t a dream he is waking up from, it's a nightmare. A beautifully, decomposing nightmare that is reality. And he is waking up with tears pooling in his eyes, and sweat slicking his forehead, and the nightmare is just a little too real.

He texts Zayn, _do you feel like skating?_

_hell ya, meet you there in twenty_

Before Louis leaves, he sets a note on the kitchen counter.

 

_the word ‘beautiful’ has been used  
_

_to describe things billions upon billions of times, but that doesn’t make the word any less beautiful._

_and the same goes for you._

 

(Louis gets home late. Harry still isn’t home, but the note is gone.

Harry doesn't come back that night.

In the morning when he does come back, neither of them talk about what happened.)

 

 

**iii.**

Louis thinks that there are glimpses of resumption nestled somewhere between the thinness of Harry’s skin and the brittleness of his bones. Somewhere in the space between each cell, every synapse junction, and the gap between his les lèvres when he whispers how safe he feels with Louis, is where all the renascence is forming, peaking out in the corners of his smile.

Louis feels the constant sting of an ache in his neck, and the thing is, it is not even real. It is there because he has been craning his neck- squinting- trying to find Harry deep inside the shell of his body.

(They don't teach you how to love broken people in school. They don't teach you how much it rips out of you, not just you, but your soul. Emptying you one by fucking one.

Louis remembers his grandpa telling him when he was beginning to drive: “You have to learn things for yourself, you can't always have people there yelling at you what to do. If you crash into a pond, you don't need people there telling you that you did just that, you’ll figure it out on your own eventually.”

He thinks it is the best advice he has ever gotten.)

Louis is tenacious, is the thing. He is determined to help Harry. And by the laws of common sense, written by Louis Tomlinson (ft. Niall Horan), you have to pull out all of the pieces of lead from a bullet wound before it can heal. You have to pick out all the little rocks and dirt after scraping your knee, otherwise it gets infected. You can't heal a wound when the poison is still seeping into the blood.

If Harry is going to get better, he has to get out everything that has happened to him, he needs community, and centres. He can't keep living with remnants still lodged between his teeth and in the disparities of his ribs.

It takes a lot of courage to talk about what hurts, but god knows you'd be shocked over how good it feels. The feeling of tossing away any sliver of an ego, of a wall built up, brick-by-fucking-brick and letting yourself be vulnerable; raw - wounds stinging as if freshly open, but _jesus_ , does it feel good - because sometimes you need a second chance at healing, (third, fourth, fifth, lifetime.) Sometimes, you have to keep ripping open your wounds until the skin cells finally form together the right way. It is called the future, it is called hope.

“Harry?”

Louis is sitting on the floor, sheets of job applications surrounding him as Harry sips on strawberry milk seldomly, eyes flickering from the TV to Louis. He is on season 11 of Top Gear, and it seems Louis hasn't heard anyone on the TV in forever that doesn't go by the name Jeremy, Richard, or James. He’s not complaining, though.

“Mhhm,” Harry hums, glancing down to Louis.

“How are you doing?”

Harry looks at him like he is crazy. Louis feels it. “What has crawled into your brain, my pillock.”

Louis rolls his eyes, “M’serious, Harry.”

Somewhere in the midst of 0.2 seconds, Harry realises where this is going and he is consummately deliberate when he tells Louis, “ _No_.”

“Harry, you know you have the utmost trust in me.”

“Don't make this into a joke, _Louis_ ,” he spits bitterly.

Louis sits up a bit, “I’m not making this into a joke, _Harry_. I'm trying-”

“-to help me, I _know_.”

Louis shakes his head, “You have to get it out before it will get better.”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“What did he _do_  to you, Harry," Louis desperately asks.

“I already told you.”

“I know there is more.”

“So fucking _what_ , Louis!” Harry yells.

Louis shrinks back, watching as Harry's face turns red.

“What does it matter to you? Why the _fuck_  do you care so much!”

“Harr-Harry. I _love_  you, that's why it matt-”

“No!” Harry yells again, kicking the small table in front of him. Strawberry milk splashes against the floor, along with books and the TV remotes. As fast it happened, is as fast as Harry's head finds his hands, sinking into himself as his shoulders shake and sobs escape his throat.

Louis scrambles up fast. Watching Harry carefully, not knowing what to do for him, his Harry.

“I'm so sorry,” he hears after a moment. It's a broken sob, and Louis furrows his eyebrows.

“S-sorry?”

Harry sobs harder, looking up to Louis with wet, scared eyes as he pleads, “Please don't be mad, please don't hurt me, I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to, I-I swear!”

And, _Oh._

“Please- please forgive me. Don’t hit me, I’ll clean it up, I swear. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

“Harry, I’m- I’m not _mad_  at you,” it is so soft, the way he says it, like the words are rubbing calming shapes into his back; putting a loving thumb into his palm.

“Y-you're not?”

“Of course not, love, w-why do you think I'm mad at you?”

“Because I made a mess,” Harry sobs louder, “and I yelled at you.”

Louis can't help but to laugh under his breath in disbelief. He doesn’t know if he is feeling numb right now, or more hurt than ever. “You're allowed to yell at me, Harry. You're allowed to get mad and yell, it’s fine.”

“I-I don't - he didn-” Harry cuts off with another nasty sob, head falling back into his hands.

Louis swallows, because that is all he can do. The mutilating sickness of Harry being young and blushing, not knowing that what he was in, wasn’t love.

He swallows again, running a hand through his fringe nervously, “It is good to yell sometimes, uh, Harry. Y'know, blow off steam," he pauses, watching the tears drip down Harry's cheeks as he lifts his head, "you can. Scream some more, I mean. You should - actually.”

“What?” Harry sniffles, wiping at his cheeks confused.

“Yell! Scream! Just bail something out, it’s fine, go ahead," Louis encourages desperately, trying to help Harry in any way thought possible, and right now, he thinks maybe this will help - a lot.

Harry blinks slowly, tears still slipping, slipping, slipping, “Um.”

“Go on.”

Harry sits still for a moment, watching Louis chew his lip. He carefully stands up when Louis nods to him encouragingly. His fingers fumbling together for some tangible line of stability, but when Louis smiles, he can't help but to smile back, tears filling his eyes as his cheeks form little nicks.

Fuck!” he yells suddenly, and Louis’ lips stretch over his teeth, watching as Harry glances to him. He nods, letting Harry know it’s okay.

“Fuck! Shit! Dick!”

“Yeah!" Louis cheers for him, "keep going, love!”

“I miss my mum!” he yells out, “and I hate the person who made me like this! And I fucking love Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis beams, fucking _beams_ , clapping loud as Harry smiles through his tears at Louis. He looks fucking exhilarated, and Louis wishes he could capture all the feelings floating in the room in a small jar, label it ‘it’s okay to scream,' and remember every emotion he is feeling at this exact moment, every time he opens the jar. This is a memory he will cherish forever.

“I’ve been wanting to try sushi lately! I sort of want to look like Jeremy Clarkson when I’m older! Twat! Cock! Ballocks!”

Louis laughs loudly, eyes shining as Harry screams from the top of his lungs, neither of them caring about neighbours, “I wish I never met him! I hope his life is hell! I really miss my mummy and Gem!”

(Louis watches as his shoulders fall, face red.)

“And I really, really want you to _fuck_ me.”

“Wait w-what?” Louis stutters, mind reeling.

“Please,” Harry asks breathlessly, “Louis.”

“I- I-”

“I want you so much, Louis,” Harry says, stepping closer and closer to Louis until he is right there and Louis can see how full and blown his eyes are, how red his cheeks are sprouting, how fucking tempting he looks at this moment.

"I don't t-"

Louis is cut off by Harry's huge hands cupping his face, his lips pressing hard to his own as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss with his fingers clinging to Louis' jaw. Louis’ eyes flutter close, a rough moan cutting into the kiss, his hands flying to grip Harry's hips in instinct and need.

"Please," Harry murmurs against his lips, stepping Louis back to the wall, pressing hard against him and trapping him there, "please."

Louis feels a bit like nothing. As in he feels so much of everything that it all blurs into a TV set on the wrong mode and it is just a mixture of white noise and static. He thinks he nods a 'yes' against Harry's mouth, but he is so utterly dazed that he isn't even sure. He just finds himself whimpering in surprise at the feeling of Harry's teeth nipping at his bottom lip, his tongue slipping out to appease the bite, and being completely mindless when he moves his lips rougher, faster, harder. Louis loves it; loves the way he can taste strawberry milk in the back of his mouth when his tongue is licking into Harry’s, grazing his teeth, feeling Harry's lips wrap around his tongue, sucking it further into his mouth. It’s so fucking obscene, the heat swirling around as they move by instinct and lust, not thinking, just feeling, and wanting, and needing. **  
**

Harry's nose is pressed to Louis' cheek, trying to kiss him deeper, never tearing his lips from Louis’ as he gasps for breaths. Louis’ own lungs burn too. They burn with the smell of Harry; the scent he has inhaled from Harry's pillowcases, his clothes, from the dainty vicinity of skin between his collarbones and jaw. If anything, it’s the smell of privilege - privilege in the way that Harry allows Louis to touch him in the way he does.

They’re kissing until their mouths are hurting, raw and bruised, and Louis’ flipping Harry over so his back is the one pressed to the pink wall, tearing away only to murmur how fucking beautiful Harry looks, before having to dive back in, needing more. Nothing can ever satiate Louis’ craving for the underlying taste that is Harry and his lips, his skin, god, his _everything_. Louis is weak and desperate when it comes to Harry, he swears he could live off the taste of his body until the day he dies.

Fumbling with the hem of Louis' shirt, Harry moans into his mouth when he feels Louis grind his cock against his own, both of them hard and aching in their trackies. All they want is more, more, _more_. Feeling like thirteen year olds grinding it out on a pillow for the first time as their nails dig into each other’s skin.

Hands are gripping and pushing at Louis' shoulders, and Louis thinks it’s because Harry is trying to push him away. But Harry is grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him closer by the ends of his hair that he still needs to cut, stepping Louis back and leading them to their bedroom in a fabrication of desperate noises and messy stepping. It’s hot though. Hot and rough, and god knows they have both been wanting this for so long.

When they make it to the bed, Harry pushes Louis onto it gently, having to force himself from Louis' lips. He straddles his lap when Louis sits on the edge of the mattress. Louis grabs Harry from the back of the knees and hoists him closer so that Harry’s crotch is above his and they can rub against each other with ease, and Harry tilts his head down to kiss Louis again. Louis works on pushing Harry's shirt off his shoulders during this, pulling back from Harry's hungry kissing to receive the nod from him that this is okay. He just - he has to ask.

“God, Lou," Harry moans out, "I've wanted this so long,” he says against his neck, making Louis gasp when he feels teeth bite down notably hard, only for a hot, wet tongue to lap over it, Harry gently sucking on the skin.

“Harry, fuck. _Baby_ ,” Louis whines, slipping his fingers under Harry's trackies, squeezing his pert little arse in his palms, pulling his cheeks apart to make Harry pant into his neck, rutting against Louis harder, harder, _harder_. He is so fucking _hard_  and he can feel Harry’s panties under his palms as he continues to play with his little arse.

Louis eventually is forced to lay back on the bed, eyes glossy as Harry gets up and pushes his trackies down, a sleek pair of black lace panties hugging his soft hips in the most enticingly filthy of ways, cock leaking precum over the tender front of them from where the tip of his cock is poking out indecently, translucent drops bubbling over. He bites his lip almost whorishly, leaning over Louis, hooking his thumbs around the band of Louis' trackies too, along with his pants, and yanking them down his thighs and pulling them over his ankles. Louis' cock slaps back against his stomach, curving against his umber skin, flushed and wet. He lets out a throaty moan at the cool air that suddenly hits his heated skin.

He watches Harry crawl back onto the bed, hovering over him, then carefully laying down on top of him. Louis attentively runs his hands down Harry's back, feeling the ridges and bumps of his dipping spine, moving one of his legs so they will click into place. He slots his finger over Harry's sides, his fingers fitting perfectly between the hills of his ribs, and it is so boundlessly captivating, kissing each other with this new passion, touching each other with this new underlying desire.

Louis breaks the kiss, breathing out heavily, and, “Tell me what he did to you.”

Harry’s lips trail down Louis’ neck, “No.” He licks over Louis’ throat, biting down hard enough to draw blood, and Louis moans loudly, his hips involuntarily rutting up.

“Why?” is the only thing he can make out as Harry continues working on the love bite beneath his chin, lapping over it with his hot tongue.

He blows cool air over it, before attaching his lips back to Louis, pulling at Louis’ hair. Louis moans against his lips, wrapping one of his legs around Harry’s to pull him tighter against himself, gasping at the friction it causes as he pulls away from the kiss.

“I hate feeling like this,” Harry finally mumbles, grinding his erection down slow and rough against Louis’, “feeling fucked up,” he mumbles under his breath, eyes closing as he grinds down harder and harder. Louis’ not meant to hear it, but he does.

“I know,” he whispers. He puts his hand on Harry’s hip, holding him still, and his other hand finds Harry’s cheek. Harry opens his eyes, an intensity washing over him as he meets Louis’. “I know,” he whispers once more, before connecting their lips again. It’s slow and filthy, the way their tongues meet before their lips, the way they moan into each other’s mouth, never closing their lips as they swallow around each other’s tongues, breathing heavily through their noses that are pressed to each other’s cheeks. Desperate, filthy, more, more, _more_.

Harry pulls back from kissing Louis first, eyes hooded and glossed over. He licks a wet stripe along his palm, spitting into it so there will be less of a drag when he reaches down between their bodies, taking Louis’ cock in his hand. He squeezes his length at the base, twisting his wrist as he pulls back up, rubbing the head of his cock, and using his spit and the excessive amount of precum dribbling from Louis' tip as a lubricant. He keeps pumping him in slow, circular motions in his tight fist, kissing over Louis’ chest.

Louis’ head hits the pillows, neck and back arching, eyes closing. He whimpers, wanting more of Harry now, wants it all now. He just- _no_.

No. No he- he doesn't- he doesn't want to _ruin_  this. He opens his eyes suddenly, ignoring the moan that is crawling up his throat. He nudges Harry lightly from where he has started marking his neck again, bites and kisses trailing all over him. “Don't’ya-” he starts breathlessly, moaning lightly as Harry flicks his wrist at his tip, “Dont’ya think we should take this- shit- slower?”

Harry rolls his eyes, kissing Louis' lips again, except this time softer, more reassuring. “We've had months of foreplay, Lou. I want this. I trust you.”

He opens his mouth to say something more, but Harry cuts him off. “It’s okay, Lou. Safe with you.”

Louis' heart rabbits in his chest in amounts of bricks falling from the built up walls. He rubs his thumb over Harry's cheek, smiling in affinity as he meets Harry's eyes. He carefully grabs Harry's soft and bare hips, sliding him off of himself so that Harry is lying on his back on the bed. Louis leans over him, kissing him softly.

“I love you,” he breathes over Harry’s mouth.

“I love you too.”

Louis breathes it in, breathes in every last bit of it. The lightness of it tugging him to the earth, like the opposite effect of helium. Louis kisses Harry once more, just a press of his lips to Harry’s, and he thinks he has never felt real love until he met this boy.

Harry starts to let out small whines from the back of his throat, and Louis pulls back to see him pouting.

“Impatient,” he snorts.

“Sloth,” Harry says back, crossing his arms over his chest as if it actually makes him look more intimidating when his cheeks are delicately pink and he is in lace.

Louis rolls over anyway, leaning over the edge of the bed on his tummy. He pushes away the pink duvet pooled on the ground to reach under the bed. He fumbles, searching blindly for the right necessities.

He feels around a bit more, leaning up on his knees a bit to reach further under the bed, before finding the bottle of lube. Right when he grabs it, he feels a hand grab at his arse that’s in the air from bending over. He smirks over his shoulder, shaking his bum.

Harry raises an eyebrow, leaning forward and biting the skin on one of Louis’ arsecheeks, making the boy squirm.

“Stop it, you perv,” Louis laughs out, getting back on the bed fully.

“Sorry, your arse is just irresistible,” Harry says through a smile, laying back against the bed again.

“It is, innit?” Louis’ looks over his shoulder, shaking his bum for himself, and Harry whines.

“You’re supposed to be paying attention to mine,” Harry’s hands trails down his stomach teasingly, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he rubs over his cock that is still in his sodding black panties. Harry won’t admit it, but there is something really hot about Louis checking himself out, it's even hotter when Louis' checking _him_  out, though.

Louis rolls his eyes, “Do you have any condoms, Harold?”

Harry blushes. “I’m- I got tested, y'know. I’m okay-” he pauses, “unless you need or- would prefer - I mean- I don’t have any here- I just never-”

Louis cuts Harry’s rambling off with a kiss to his lips, murmuring against them, “Shut up.”

Harry melts into the kiss, body going lax, completely careless at the touch. He bites Louis’ lip, sucking on it lightly before releasing it. “Besides,” he murmurs, his entire demeanour changing, “wanna feel you.”

A rough moan cuts through Louis’ throat as he murmurs ‘fuck,’ pushing Harry to the mattress, at least more so than he already was, and holding his hips down so he can settle nicely between his thighs.

“Yeah?” he says hotly. Louis can’t resist to mouth at Harry’s dick, heavy and leaking between his legs; it’s so hard, so gorgeous. He can hear Harry’s small whimper as a reply when he licks over it through the fabric of his sinful panties, sucking the head that is poking out from the top of them into his mouth, licking off the precum that melts to his tongue. He pulls back slightly, eyes meeting Harry's. Harry nods and Louis slips the panties down slowly, fingers grazing over Harry’s hairless thighs, until he is moving from between his legs so he can pull them off of Harry’s ankles.

Harry grabs the lube hastily, biting his lip obscenely and uncapping the bottle. Louis smiles from where he has settled between Harry's thighs again, flashing his teeth as he sucks a mark on Harry’s inner thigh on the soft skin there. He holds his hand out, letting Harry squirt some of the cool liquid into his palm. He rubs it over three of his fingers, huffing over them to warm them up as he kisses down Harry's body, sucking a dark love bite into the sensitive and hairless skin above his crotch. He circles one of his fingers around Harry's pink rim, just teasing the fluttering hole as the smallest of noises slip from Harry's lips, desperate for more.

He kneels back, slipping his hands under Harry’s thighs, careful not to let his slicked fingers skim the soft skin as he pulls them up, lifting Harry’s feet from being planted on the bed. He smooth’s over the backs of them, spreading Harry apart further, his breath catching as Harry's puckered hole is revealed to him. He circles one of his fingers around it again, this time watching with his mouth watering, listening to Harry's shuddering breaths, matching the flutters of his pink hole.

“So beautiful, baby,” he finds himself saying softly.

Louis slowly pushes his finger inside, watching as Harry’s pretty hole envelopes around him. He can feel the familiar tight heat of Harry surround him as he slowly pushes in deeper, smoothing over his hot walls with his fingertip before pulling back. He pushes back in just as slowly as he did the first time, just touching.

“Tell me when to add anot-”

“Now,” Harry rasps quickly, and Louis just then looks up from Harry’s arse to see him chewing his lip, eyebrows furrowed, “more. Please.”

Louis swallows, nodding quickly, carefully edging another finger inside and listening to all the noises that fall from Harry's lips as they get louder. He scissors his fingers inside of him, opening him up, rubbing against his somewhat stretched rim with one of his free fingers, making himself harder than thought possible.

“‘nother, ‘nother,” Harry whines, breath hitching as his back arches. His feet that were planted to the mattress pull up and wrap around Louis' back, pulling him closer in efforts to get Louis' fingers further inside of him.

Louis balances himself, murmuring a ‘ _stay still for me, baby_ ’ as he slips a third finger in beside the others. He quickly curves his fingers so he hits the spot that makes Harry choke on moans and quiver in delight. He wraps one of his arms around Harry's thigh, dragging Harry down on the mattress, making him rock back down on them, loving the feeling of the way Harry's feet curl against his back. He has done this before, knows exactly where to rub inside of Harry, just how to nudge that spot inside of him to make him either scream out or shutter in silence.

“Y-yes, fuck,” Harry moans out, rocking his hips down onto Louis fingers that are knuckle deep inside of him. The slight burn fades quickly, and now it is just stars floating behind his eyelids and up his spine, spilling out of his mouth in the filthiest of moans.

“You're so hot, Harry. Jesus. So fucking beautiful when you're like this, baby,” Louis leans down, breathing it over Harry's skin in hopes it will sink into his body and he will believe it every morning when he wakes up. So he’ll know that he is beautiful in every way. So he knows that someone- _Louis_ \- appreciates him in this way.

Harry lets out the prettiest of moans at that, head rolling back and breath catching, all of it tempting more precum to drip from Louis’ already too hard cock. Louis breathes out shakily, unwillingly pulling his fingers from Harry's heat. “Are you sure- I can- we can wait if you j-”

“No, fuck.” Harry leans up, pressing in for another hard kiss, teeth clacking together in a flurry of pants and whines. He slips his tongue right in, moulding his lips to Louis' and licking into his mouth like it is his favourite taste. When he pulls back, he leaves a dazed look across Louis’ face, eyes blown impossibly more. “It is only you, only us. We’re okay.”

Louis closes his eyes and nods. This is them, he reminds himself.

Harry lays back down, but he can see that the reluctance is still inside of Louis. So he continues, “Not afraid - not with you."

Louis can't help the smile that covers his face, leaning over Harry's body, cocks bumping together as he kisses Harry's jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, before gently placing one right onto his lips, a promise to keep him safe for as long as Harry will let him, and probably then some.

"Safe. Safe with you."

 

_Safe._

He really likes that word.

 

Kissing his way down Harry's body again, Louis revels in the way that Harry's skin burns against his lips, sending shivers through his veins, making him move with fever and moan without strain.

He feels a wet hand take grab of his cock, and Harry smiles warmly at him, coating Louis' cock with plenty of lube. He freezes, nearly, because this is just- it’s going to be Harry's first time since _him_. It just kills him, because Harry’s had rough hands spread his thighs without permission and he just- he _can't_ \- he wants this to be perfect for Harry, whatever he wants he can get. This is just a really special moment for him- for _them_.

Harry ruts up, reluctantly letting go of Louis' slick cock, bending his legs back so they fold against his chest as best as he can manage, opening himself up nice and wide. Louis wants it so bad, wants to feel Harry wrapped around him, as he teases Harry's entrance with the tip of his dick, mouth nearly watering, but - he looks up another time, just to make sure that Harry is as 100% sure  about this as he is. He doesn't want to ruin this.

Harry nods, and Louis thinks he is probably rolling his eyes in his mind. But he is given permission again, so he circles the tip of his painfully swollen cock around Harry’s rim, each round-about getting tighter.

He bites his lip, reaching for the lube again. Harry doesn’t question him when he drizzles lube over his hole, just smiles shyly, feeling his cheeks flush for no other reason than the fact that Louis is really, really, sweet.

"Can I?" he murmurs in trance, tossing the lube somewhere on the bed. Harry nods once again.

Louis smears the extra lube around Harry's pink entrance, making Harry as wet and slick as possible, before slowly pushing the tip of his cock in, watching Harry's rim stretch around himself. He notices Harry wince a bit, eyebrows drawn tight, so he quits moving, “We can st-”

But before he can get the sentence out, Harry is pushing himself back onto Louis, gasping in pain and pleasure as he makes Louis bottom out, bollocks deep inside of him. It rips a guilty moan from Louis as he drops his head back.

“God Lou, so big,” Harry whispers, “fill me up so good.” His eyes squeeze shut as he feels Louis’ cock stretch him out, a mixture of both an intense burn and felicity shooting through him, and _fuck_  does he loves it. Loves it so much, the way the tip of Louis' cock nudges against his spot.

Louis moans out again, eyes rolling back as he feels Harry surrounding him, all around him, heaving him to this new place entirely; somewhere hidden from everyone else, unconditionally safe as Harry rubs his thumbs into Louis' arms and wraps his legs around the backside of Louis, desperately murmuring, “move”.

He does. Slowly, affectionately, wanting to treat Harry in the best, most meriting way possible.

Harry grunts, though, trying to push back more, more, _more_ , _faster_. “I'm not weak, Louis. You're allowed to fuck me.”

Louis leans down, kissing over Harry's chest, still rocking at an agonisingly slow pace, “Don't think you're weak, love, just delicate.”

“I want you to fuck me hard, Lou," Harry grunts filthily, throwing his head in the pillows, "want you to fuck me nice and hard with your big fucking cock.”

“Shit," Louis' so - "fuck, Harry,” is all he can manage to get out in small gasps, all the worry vanishing as he pulls back, just the tip of his cock still inside of Harry as he slams back in, making Harry scream out. His legs tighten around Louis’ waist, trying to pull even more of him inside, trying to feel him in every way possible, every ridge, pulse, _vein_  in his cock. Louis fucks into him nice and hard, hitting him right there every single fucking time. And jesus, the way curse words spill from Harry’s lips turns Louis on more than he thought possible.

Fucking hell, it’s fantastic.

Harry trembles with pleasure, toes curling at the overwhelming feeling of Louis’ skin slapping against his, and the soft hum that comes from low in Louis' throat when they both roll their hips in unison. It’s not even embarrassing when he cries out, “Louis,” because he is fucking him so rough, and so intensely, whilst still leaning down and trailing gentle kisses over his body. Hips rocking with so much force, but every other touch feather light, and Harry really is _crying_. Crying with pleasure and deep emotion- because Louis is treating him so good, making him feel so alive and loved as he peppers kisses over his cheek to his lips and murmuring how beautiful he looks.

It is so intimate, so loving, and Harry hasn't felt like this in a long time.

“Princess,” Louis gasps out as Harry grinds his hips down, meeting Louis in the middle of his thrusts. His back arches up and he chokes on breaths that stick to his teeth, gasping as the new angle of Louis' relentless pounding hits him exactly on his spot every single time, making him quiver in the overwhelmed silhouette that is Louis, white light everywhere.

Louis leans down, the rocking of his hips speeding up and the lengths at which he pulls out shortening as he kisses Harry like it is the most important thing he’ll ever do. Their wet tongues slide together frantically, trying to suck every last kiss, taste, _breath_  from each other’s mouths to savour forever. Hot panting, sweat, gasps, fuck, fuck, harder, ' _fuck me harder._ '

“Shit baby,” Louis pants against Harry's mouth, moaning when Harry's teeth graze his bottom lip, “so gorgeous, prettiest boy in the fucking world.”

Harry whimpers under Louis’ words- moans, body breathing out Louis’ name desperately, legs embed around him, hands anchored around his back, pulling him closer to his sweat slicked body as Louis buries his cock deep in his arse, making him scratch angry, red marks down his back, shooting hot, white come all over them as his thighs tremble in surprise and aftershock because of the best sex he has ever had.

God, Louis thinks, watching Harry's chest flush and his eyes flit as he comes; body covered in a thin sheet of sudour that makes his body _glisten_ , his eyes are the most vibrant green, gold surrounding his blown irises. He is fucking _angelic_ , fucking _otherworldly_.

Louis thrusts into Harry's pliant body that is still clinging to him desperately, so caught up in how gorgeous his boy looks, his princess, as his hips stutter and he finds himself coming deep and messily inside of Harry's tight little arse; hot ropes of come filling him up.

Louis doesn't know how he manages to pull out before collapsing onto Harry's chest in unmindful euphoria, but he does. And he misses Harry's heat, misses the way Harry clenched around him, god, misses being so physically fucking connected.

He gets up a bit though, despite having to lean on a shaky elbow. He tries to even his breaths as Harry glows in his post-orgasm state, chest heaving lightly, matching Louis' own chest, but other than that he is absolutely pliant with his hooded eyes and dopey smile. He tilts his chin up, puckering his lips adorably, wanting more of Louis.

Always more.

Louis laughs, pecking him once, still catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm, the intensity that is Harry Styles: boyish curls, painted nails, and soft smiles. He leans down again, gently pressing his lips to Harry's. “S’okay?” he murmurs against them, taking every sluggish kiss Harry offers him from his swollen and sex bitten lips.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, eyelids slowly shifting to his cheekbones, eyelashes fluttering as sleep takes over his blissed and beautiful body.

Louis smiles fondly, smoothing away a curl that is matted to his boy's forehead. He feels surreal, like Harry is the only weight in the world that can hold down the thread that attaches them, tethering him closer to Harry than he has ever been with anyone else.

Harry is the only thing keeping him in reality, whilst simultaneously making him feel like they are in a completely other world alone; just the two of them.

(Right before Harry completely drifts off, he smiles, dimples and all, and murmurs a quiet, ‘love you.’

Louis wants to reach for it, wants to pluck the genuineness of it from his mouth and keep it close to him forever.)

 

 

( **iv.**

Louis thinks that the person who is best fit to love you isn't someone who makes you feel the happiest, but someone who makes you feel the biggest, the most. Harry does that. Even when Harry becomes jagged and figuratively cuts him like the broken glass he is, Louis will still, and always be, in awe of how fucking stunning Harry looks shining in the light, colours bouncing off his broken tips into the world around them; Louis wouldn't even care if he bled to death.)

Right now, they are lying on their sides, facing each other in bed; it is a gold-drenched sunny morning, 7:00 a.m. The sheet is tangled between their ankles, legs, each other; draping down their bodies in folds of cascades. The duvet is lost somewhere on the floor still, along with a mistful gleam of all they've done.

Harry's eyes shine with a certain tenderness, a silky shimmer running through his burnt-sienna curls and down to his temple, his skin a warm honey-tan, and Louis gets lost in his features, his winsomeness. An eyelash falls to his cheek, and Louis thinks it is him falling for Harry all over again; every day.

For some reason in the back of Louis’ mind, he thought Harry would wake up crying after sex, he imagined him sobbing and cowering away; scared. He had this irrationally rational fear that he would have to remind Harry that he wasn't Mark, that he didn't hurt him, and never would.

(Harry woke Louis up by brushing his thumb over his cheekbone, lips barely parted as his soft breaths trifled lightly against Louis’ face - no words.)

They still haven't spoken anything, they're just staring. Looking over each other’s bodies like it is the first time they've ever seen each other naked, like it is the first day of their lives, and everything is new and exciting and they are untouchable.

Their arms drape around each other lazily, whilst simultaneously holding the most important thing in the universe- at this moment- the smell of euphoria filtering through the air, pure bliss.

“I still remember the number of steps to his flat, y'know?"

It is lifeless, the way he says it, staring directly at Louis, whilst being so far, far away, departed from the bed that they lay on, and the life they live in. A bitter tear slips from his eye and Louis lets it roll down his cheek, he thinks it is the best way to remind Harry that he is still viable in the most gentle of forms.

(He thinks about last night, about how beautiful Harry was, gasping beneath him, legs quivering and breaths short. The way his face scrunched up when he came, the sounds he made, _god_ , Louis doesn't understand why that wouldn't be enough. He doesn't get how someone could just take advantage of something that isn't theirs.

It hurts to know, but Louis knows it is hurting Harry a hell of a lot more.)

Louis isn't actually sure of what to do as a weak smile spreads across Harry's face. His fingers dance across his ivory-smooth skin, tracing a scar that goes down his side, trailing down his spine and back up again as he smiles in return. He traces _‘I love u'_   into Harry's skin with his fingertips, delicate, and at first he isn't even sure Harry notices what he has done.

But Harry smiles, biting his lip, and he traces ‘u 2’ onto Louis’ back.

Louis has never felt so full, so much.

 

 

**v.**

There is sea of semi-colons contrived between the days that Harry is and isn't okay. They do not talk about the resentment; caving in on him as he tries to eradicate the touches, the words, and god, the taste.

Understand that the day Louis Tomlinson fell in love with the lovely boy that is Harry, his life was no longer his. He thinks that it is the most unfair thing that the universe has ever, and will ever, do to him. Louis’ heart and body belong to Harry, and Harry's heart belongs to Louis too, no doubt, but his body- it belongs to someone who thought it was okay to steal away someone’s life without actually killing them.

It hurts Louis so much to think that Harry was this young boy, too loving and too soft to say the word 'no.' How do you even grasp the idea that some hands are not kind? When hands are these powerful tools that can create musical instruments, and art, and wipe away tears, how do you say they are ugly? It hurts Louis to think that Harry did not know at the time, that not all hands are kind, and sometimes they touch places that are not theirs to touch, choking the distance between your breath and body in every wrong swipe of thumbs, palms, _knuckles_. Even when the word did manage to scrape off of his tongue, out into the ugly air of stale cig smoke, they went ignored, because some peoples alphabets end at 'm' and only pick up again at 'p.'

(“Louis, there is so much- I can't- it's s-”

Louis rubs Harry’s back, shushing him quietly.

“I-I’m scared, Lou. I’m scared if I say it he’ll come back. I don’t wan-”

“Harry,” Louis starts gently, “I won’t let him hurt you anymore. I promise. He won’t go away until you get him out, okay?” Louis can see Harry taking the words in. It scares Louis to think that what Harry is saying, and thinking, is rational in his mind. “I promise I won’t let him hurt you.”

“O-okay.”)

*

They’re at a fruit stand: It is on the edge of the city where hay bales scatter fields in hundreds and the air is softer than in the city with a nice scent of sweat and sweet grass. Small blooming daisies cover the edges of the houses in the mid-day spring air, and Harry is carrying a small basket in the crook of his elbow. He picks up different vegetables and fruits, some of the names so odd it is impossible to say correctly the first time. He rubs his thumbs over them, deeming them on whether or not they are good enough for some spring fest treat recipe he found online. Louis stays protectively to his side, fingers occasionally grazing over the different food items, refraining himself from calling the different crops 'pretentious twats' and 'pompous tossers.' One of his hands lay sprawled across Harry's back, always keeping some type of physical contact with his love.

Harry stops at a small box of overly ripe plums that- according to the red sign with white paint- are on clearance, the tag reading : 2.00 for all. Harry stares at them subjectively, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, before saying in a delayed, distant voice, “When he was drunk, he would press his thumb into my bruises... so hard, just- he’d just sit there, laughing at me. And- and if I tried to move... I’d- something worse would happen. I had to just sit there, letting him do it.”

And all Louis can do is nuzzle his head into Harry's neck and sigh sadly. He feels his skin peeling from his body, rebelling against himself. He needs to stay strong, but his mind races with thoughts of how long Harry has had to think about all of this and go through it. He still is, going through it, it never really goes away, and Louis thinks that’s what hurts the most.

After snogging lazily on the couch: Harry is on top of Louis, his body flushed to Louis’ as they slow down their heated kissing; getting lazier, more sluggish, taking long, slow pecks with short little breaths against each other’s reddening cheeks.

Harry pulls back and lays his head on Louis’ chest despite having to bend his legs to curl into the couch. His cheeks are splotched in roseate, lips swollen and dark, and eyes silken, but- at the same time- inaccessible.

“He would slam me against the wall, or to the floor, somewhere,” he starts, bitterness dripping into his tone, “and half of them time I didn't even remember what happened. I would just wake up, hurting everywhere, my head, my arse. I...I would have to wash off the dried come.”

Louis thinks Harry is about to puke, and Louis sort of feels like he is going to, too. Instead, though, he pins a broken bone to a ligament, closes gashes with his guts, and gently sprawls his hand over Harry's head, gingerly scratching his scalp, twirling his fingers in his curls and wrapping strands around his fingertips. He tries not to cry, tries not to show Harry his heart is breaking, in fear that Harry will shut him out again. He can’t say anything, but he lets all his gentle touches tell Harry that _he_ isn’t here anymore.

He knew hearing all of this was going to be heart-breaking.

In the middle of the night: “He would gag me with his cock until I couldn't breathe, make me swallow all of his come. Lou, I hated how he tasted. I _hated_  it.”

Harry would cry and cry and cry, tears pouring out as Louis held him as close as possible and then some, soothing him with a litany of circles from his fingertips. Louis tries to let Harry know through his firm grip and soft kisses that what happened to Harry was wrong, and that he won’t ever let it happen to him again. But there are too many buried questions in between the accents of 'what if' and 'maybe' that Harry just can't shake from his trembling lips.

(Louis kisses Harry slowly, languidly, licking out every last taste of him.)

In the bathroom when Harry is showering and Louis is flossing:

“He forced me to drink it.”

Louis freezes, his face scrunching up even more awkwardly because he was trying to get the teeth in the back of his mouth with the floss, when Harry began speaking. “Huh?” he hums out.

“He was always getting drunk, Lou. He- he made me drink it. The alcohol. The worst time was when he bought a bottle of-of whiskey,” Harry’s pauses feels like a nail to Louis’ throat, “he would pull my head back, hold my jaw open, and fucking force me to swallow it.”

Louis holds back the ocean of tears swelling behind his eyelids, he didn’t- he didn’t think it was this bad. He never imagined that this was the abuse Harry was talking about. It sounds fucking crazy, and probably pathetic, but Louis thought it was just - he thought it was just a few punches every once in awhile, on bad nights his thighs getting opened without his permission. He feels so fucking _guilty_ , he fucking thought it wasn’t that bad. Whenever the word ‘no,’ is ignored it's bad.

Louis fucking hates himself, and even more so when Harry lets out a weak sob.

“It was bad enough he would force me to ride him, force me to look into his eyes as he came inside me. But he needed more- forced me to drink it because he knew how much it burned my throat, he _knew_ , Louis.” Harry's sobs aren’t nearly as broken as he is, but they still crack and curl in the same way. And Louis is scared that if he opens the shower curtain, he will find Harry and all the bruised pieces of him washing down the drain.

“A-and one time I puked, I puked every time, but this time I puked right then on the floor when he was forcing it down my throat and he got so angry, angrier, he-”

Louis opens the shower curtain, seeing Harry's eyes red and puffy, but more than anything empty. He holds out his arms, ignoring the burning water as Harry steps into them, sobbing pathetically, skin a bright crimson in the steam of the spray.

“And- and. He fucked me in it. He made me, I- I didn't mean to puke, Louis. I didn't mean to stain the carpet. I'm so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Louis cries too, but the tears are covered up by the drops of water that infuse over his face from the shower. All he can do is hold Harry tight to his chest, trying not to feel the crumbling of his body when he grips Harry’s skin. He’s sobbing, he knows he is. He is fucking sobbing because it’s going to take a lot more than a fucking hug and kiss to help Harry. Louis knew Harry was broken, but right now, in his arms, he feels _dead._

And the difference between being broken and being dead, is that by definition, anything broken can be fixed. Right now, Louis doesn't think Harry can ever be fixed. He can be made new, made happy, made where he is able to live again, but he will never be the same Harry ever again.

There is more:

“He would spit in my neck and tell me that it was love. Tell me I needed to get over myself.”  

 

“He pinned me down with my hands held together, told me I was going to love it. Then, when it was over, he rolled off me and laughed, Lou. Said: “Now that wasn't so bad, was it, gorgeous?" He called me _gorgeous._ ”

 

“When you would find me crying in the bathroom, it was because I had a dream of his laugh.”

 

“He would call me at lunch time at his job and apologise over and over, kept saying 'never again, never again'. He would come home with presents for me; come home with an expensive dinner and wine, and he would kiss me gently and cuddle me to bed. Louis, he would cry, he would _cry_  and tell me how sorry he was.”

 

“I should have left, I should have just left him. I knew what he was doing to me wasn't right. I just kept making excuses in my head, though. I was trying to justify why I stuck around, and how I could fall in love with him, Lou.”  Harry shook his head, eyes not vacant but just.... sad. Sad as he poured everything he had into the open air, cringing, “and it’s like- it’s like getting in a swimming pool, and instead of just diving into the water you like, wade around awkwardly in the cold water, you know? And you know, _you know_ , that it would be easiest to just dive right in the water but you don't.”

(Louis goes to the small lake only half an hour away whilst Harry is at work; he wades in the water, ignoring all the other people doing the same around him- and he gets it, he fucking gets it. And even before he does eventually dive into the water, his body still hesitates, it still stops him. Louis knows it is for the best to just go under, that the cold sting will be less intense, and then he can just enjoy swimming rather than wasting his time trying to slowly step further into the water, but it is so fucking difficult, and he can't- he just-

He thinks it is the closest he will ever get to understanding.)

 

“One night, I bumped into the table holding this lamp his mum gave him, a-and it fell and broke. I think that was the worse, b-because his mum had died and that was- it was so special to him. He fucked me with both of my wrists just... pinned above my head with one of his hands, a-and- a- a piece of the broken glass was in his other hand, slowly cutting down my side as he- he whispered: “Naughty sluts have to get taught a lesson.” Harry burst out crying, “He just kept telling me I was a bad boy, Louis, a bad boy. I don't want to be a bad boy. I am not.”

Louis quickly wraps his arms around his boy's shaking shoulders at that moment, knowing exactly what scar Harry is talking about. He has traced it so many times, asked about it, but never getting more than a shrug of an answer from him. It’s not- it’s not deep or large, but it is there, and it is a reminder, and that is what hurts, the reminder.

So he holds Harry tightly, feeling him tremble in his arms as he murmurs over and over, “I don't want to be a bad boy, I don't want to be a bad boy, Lou.”

“You're the best boy, Harry,” Louis tells him. Harry's head is tucked into his neck with a hand on the back of his neck like he is a baby, rocking him gently, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible to hide from Harry that he’s crying too. God it’s just- people like this are _real_. They exist and it’s fucking awful.

“Best most wonderful boy in the entire world.” His voice cracks and he squeezes his eyes shut, holding Harry impossibly tighter as he shakes, the sobbing constant. Louis momentarily thinks Harry's shaking is making the entire flat complex wobble in a flurry of emotions and waves of tears, hushed, ignorance's of ‘ _no! no! please stop!_ ’

Harry's body did not belong to him, no, his body was wet cement and _he_  left his hand prints in places that weren't his own to know and let them dry there.

“I still feel so bad for breaking that lamp.”

 

 

**vi.**

Recovery isn't the flip of the blinds and letting the light inside. It isn't the flick of a switch, things just don't get better instantaneously. What recovery really is, is sifting through the sofa cushions for crumbs of courage and dimes of hope. Recovery is deliberately forgetting these giant chunks of life, these pieces of unwanted grasps that you never asked for. But no matter how much you want the memories to evaporate, you cling to them, like dryer lint to black polyester. Once the ocean takes you under, the struggle to get back up is more painful than the fall into it.

But recovery is also sleeping in on Mondays and staying up late on Fridays. It is strawberry milk; sloshing like happiness in your tummy, the scent of new cotton candy candles washing through the air around you to remind you of the sweet things. It is laughing so hard you choke on your drink with a snort, and it starts to drip out of your nose. It is kisses that make your mind turn to honey, slow, unthinking, warm and sweet as you melt into this natural, creamy mess of love. It is feeling full after eating dinner, but getting dessert anyway, because god fucking damn it, you deserve that piece of double-decker chocolate pudding cake. It is remembering late at night, when you're trapped in tears and thoughts of all those moments, that feelings pass and tomorrow is going to be better. It is.

That's life. It is full of good things and bad things, and you never really know where you are going to end up in the never ending kaleidoscope that is the cosmos. But just because today is a mixture of salt and water and hushed sobs, tomorrow is a fresh start that could be snorting milk up your nose from laughing too hard. Tomorrow the kisses might feel even better than honey, they could feel like forever.

It starts out with just a few extra minutes in bed. Harry groans inwardly and Louis groans outwardly as the loud beeps of the alarm clock go off. Believe it or not, it is 9:00 a.m., but it is also summer and that means it should really be 1:00 p.m., and they should be waking up without the loud blare of pings. Harry has to go to work at the library, though, and Louis needs to turn in his job applications at some point. So, despite the fact that neither of them want to do anything, they are 'adults' now and they have to do ‘adult’ things, like taking care of responsibilities.

Harry stretches in bed, his foot knocking against Louis’ ankle as he lets out a content sound of stretching. His arms stretch above his head, ribs poking through his skin as his toes curl, and that is when Louis makes his move. He yawns quietly, swiftly cuddling in under Harry's arm and wrapping his own arm over his bare chest, listening to the little noise that escapes Harry's mouth. It’s different, because usually Harry is the one wrapped up under Louis’ arms. But Louis thinks he likes it this way just as much, being able to hear Harry's life thrum beneath him.

“Lou, gotta get up ‘n shower,” he says, voice coated in a deep sleep still.

“Just a few more minutes,” Louis clenches his eyes closed, holding Harry tighter and murmuring a quiet, “please.”

Harry sighs, “But I still gotta make my lunch, babe,” he clears his throat, laughing lightly, “and dig for clean clothes.”

Louis opens one of his eyes and peers up to Harry. He briefly wonders why he has never seen Harry from this angle- from right below his chin. It is tilted down and his lips are stretched over his teeth, and Louis has literally never seen Harry's face from this position. It is soft, always soft, and his bottom lip looks so much more plump, his cheeks rounder. His eyelashes curve up and the light is making their shadows dance across his cheeks to the right. His eyes look darker, a ring of gold noticeable on the lower edge of his pupil- this miraculous and familiar mixture of colour seething out in soft smiles of 'yeah, this is our forever,' and Louis thinks it is the best way to wake up in the morning. Harry's curls sprawl out differently, shooting out in messy, and disorderly directions. He even has this cute little double chin from the way his face is resting.

And yeah, Harry always looks pretty, sure, but he looks an even different amount of pretty right now, at this angle, and Louis intends on doing sightseeing from this position more often.

“I’ll make your lunch and find you an outfit whilst you're in the shower, okay?” he says, not wanting to move, “don't leave me just yet.”

Louis momentarily thinks he can hear Harry's heart melting under his ear as Harry smiles warmly down to him, eyes fluttering in the gentle way they always do. He drapes his arm around Louis’ back, and the other one winds over Louis' waist to hold his hip. His fingers scratch lightly up and down Louis' back, nails cut to the perfect length where it is not really rubbing, but not really scratching either, and Louis feels so pliant in his spot; curled under and around Harry like this.

He turns his head into Harry's skin and smiles, eyes squeezed tightly with crinkles curling up by his eyes and indenting his face. He doesn't know why he feels so unbelievably happy right now, but he does. He kisses right there, above Harry's heart, before turning his head down to look at Harry's body.

He moves the arm that is wrapped around Harry's waist, and trails it over Harry's stomach. It is soft, mushy in this utterly adorable yet sexy way that Louis doesn't completely understand as he circles Harry's navel, watching his stomach flutter under his light touches. He is beautiful, sweet and delicate, and Louis has never felt more indulged.

“What’ya doin’ down there?” Louis can hear the smile in Harry's voice as he asks the question, so he smiles too, shrugging lightly.

Louis’ hand slips to Harry's side and pinches his little love handle gently. They’re one of Louis’ favourite things about Harry; loves when he wears really tight anything over his bum and they bump out in this luscious way, and Louis just has to touch them. They are just so soft in his palms when he squeezes them, _so gorgeous_ , moulding perfectly to his fingers.

Louis sighs contentedly, reaching and grabbing Harry's hand that is still on his hip, and entwining their fingers over Harry's chest. He feels Harry squeeze them, so he squeezes back, lips stretching over his teeth in a wide grin. Louis doesn't know what is into him at the moment, he doesn't know why he’s being so compliable, supple, has this want for Harry to hold him as he touches his body, but he really kind of loves it. Whatever the feeling is.

He feels Harry shift, and he knows he is craning his neck to see the time. Louis looks too, seeing 9:12 flash in red, and he also knows Harry needs to go shower now. So he places loud, dramatic kisses all the way up Harry's jaw, before smacking a final one right to Harry's lips, bathing in the feeling of Harry giggling against them, sinking into his own mouth and making him giggle back in an infectious laughter.

“Go on then, get’n the shower,” Louis says through a grin, rolling away from Harry and tangling himself in the sheets.

“Bossy,” Harry mumbles, dimples caving in as he forces himself out of bed and stands up, stretching again.

Louis unashamedly stares at Harry's body and each muscle that moves beneath his silky skin. He sits up and crawls so he can wrap his arms around Harry's stomach. He doesn't let his mumbled “Can I?” sink his mood as Harry says an, “Of course,” as if Louis is stupid for asking. Louis always asks though.

Louis kisses his spine as Harry stretches his arms above his head one last time, a small moan slipping from his lips. Louis giggles right there, above Harry's bum as Harry slumps his shoulders lazily.

“C’mon Lou, gotta get in the shower now,” he whines, “and you promised to make me lunch and get me clothes.”

Louis smiles against the bottom of Harry's spine, and it probably looks a little weird, but it is just them- only them- as he skims his lips lower and bites softly into Harry's pert little bum cheek.

Harry squeaks a bit as Louis laughs, kissing back up his spine and to his neck.

“What's gotten into you this morning?” Harry laughs in admiration, wiggling against Louis’ chest.

Louis sighs into Harry's neck, chin placed on his shoulder, kissing lightly at the skin on the back of Harry's neck, “Just so irresistible, baby.”

Harry moans lightly and exhales heavily, “Never gonna get to work if you keep doing this.”

Louis bites his lip, smiling against Harry's shoulder, “Alright, go one then. Gonna make you the best lunch ever.”

He lets himself tap Harry's bum lightly before he is hurrying to the bathroom, calling out a, “Hurry up, you git!” behind him.

(Louis himself, slips out of their bed and starts digging through their drawers and their closet, looking for something other than trackies and t-shirts and lounge shorts for Harry to wear. He loves to dress Harry, it makes him feel so proud knowing Harry is wearing the clothes he picked for him. There is a mix of Harry's cleanliness and Louis’ messiness mixed into their flat, but it is such a clean disorganisation that it works out perfectly for each of them, and besides, Louis never lets a mess get in his way from making himself, or Harry, look good.

In the very back of the closet Louis sees a button down shirt, a pallid blue colour that he thinks will look heavenly against Harrys goldening skin. He digs through their jeans, finding the one black pair that isn't scattered in holes, and lays it on the bed with the shirt. He grabs the pair of tan brogues Harry always wears and adds them to the pile. He bites his lip as he skims through Harry's drawer of knickers, cheekily deciding on a dark blue thong covered with lace.

Since Louis isn't Harry, and he isn't striving for any type of degree in the culinary arts, he isn't as fancy and talented with foods. He makes good top ramen, the best cheesie toast, and can turn mac n cheese into an appetiser- but that's as far as he really goes when it comes to cooking.

But Louis wants to do this good. So he digs through the fridge, grabbing the leftover wrapped bacon from yesterday morning and he heats it in the microwave. He puts two slices of whole wheat in the toaster, and then cuts a tomato, cursing as he almost cuts one of his fingers off. The microwave goes off, and then the toaster, and Louis scrambles to get everything. He butters the toast, places the bacon in the shape of a heart because he can, and adds the tomato to the middle. He adds a bit of miracle whip around the insides and outsides of the bacon heart just as Harry is strutting out with a wet mop of hair and an unbuttoned shirt that Louis picked for him.

He awes at the sandwich just as Louis puts the top piece of toast on it, and Louis smiles happily before turning to Harry.

“Jesus, Harold,” Louis starts, eyes trailing over Harry's naked torso, as he so obviously failed to button his shirt up on his own, “you going to work naked now?”

Harry laughs, head thrown back as Louis digs through the drawers to his left for a plastic baggy to put Harry's sandwich in.

“I don't think I’m the naked one here,” Harry says after a moment, stepping close to Louis as Louis carefully shoves his masterpiece into the bag. He feels Harry's arms wrap around him, his bare chest pressing into Louis’ bare back, so he leans against him, enjoying the fresh cherry-blossom smell Harry is sporting. He turns in Harry's arms, grabbing the button ends of his shirt and pulling Harry closer to him.

“You've been quite cheeky this morning,” Harry smiles at him, and Louis notices this little glint in his eyes that he is sure he has never seen before. Harry leans down, kissing over Louis’ neck, “what are you getting into?”

“Mmm,” Louis moans, exposing more of his neck, “hopefully you.”

Harry's shuddered breath is all the warning Louis gets before Harry’s lips are hot and opening against his, slipping his tongue between Louis’ lips and licking open his mouth. His hands smooth down Louis’ curved back right to his bare bum, groping handfuls of it as Louis steps back, making Harry pin him to the counter, pulling Harry closer by his shirt and trying to button it up as Harry's tongue laps in his mouth, teeth grazing over his lips.

Louis knows he is getting hard with Harry's fingers digging into his arse, and by the fact that he is completely naked, and also maybe because Harry is grinding against Louis’ cock. Louis didn’t know the feeling of denim rubbing against his bare cock felt so good, but hey, you learn something new every day, he thinks.

But despite knowing all that, he also knows that Harry needs to get to work, and Louis really doesn't want to be left alone to take care of himself. So he gently closes his mouth, pulling away with a heavy breath. Harry's forehead stays against his, his hair slowly turning into curls as they dry out.

Louis doesn't open his eyes until he hears Harry giggle, and he follows Harry's eyes to see him looking down at his shirt, and oops.

“I think you skipped a few buttons there, Lou,” he says, looking like he tried to button his shirt up drunk. He laughs again, cheeks pink as he starts to unbutton them to re-do it.

Louis laughs too, slipping away from Harry and putting his wonderfully made sandwich into Harry's rucksack. He sees paper and a pen, and scribbles a cute note for Harry to find, before turning back to him. He runs his hands down Harry's back as he hurries to finish the buttons. Before he does, though, Louis hooks his finger under his jeans and pulls on the string of his thong, smirking when he hears Harry gasp, and he sees his fingers fumble over the last button.

Oops.)

 

*

There’s more:

“He didn't like me baking, stopped letting me make desserts and pastries. He told me baking isn't a proper fucking job, he told me I was getting too fat. I'm not fat, am I Lou? Am I?”

*

It sits in Louis’ mind for a while, stays there refusing to leave him be, forces him to think about it. He hates it, it just makes him so fucking angry.

(He bakes Harry a cake.)

It’s out of the box- chocolate- and it’s nothing too extravagant, but it’s a fucking cake. He fucks up cutting it in half when it is done baking, so after he spoons on the cream cheese frosting for the filling in the middle, and puts the top half back on, it is lumpy and crumbling. He puts on chocolate frosting, and then more chocolate frosting, and he keeps adding more fucking frosting in hopes it will make it look better. Then he tries to draw a heart with whip cream on top of it, because honestly, all it can do is make it look a little shittier than it already looks.

He steps back, swipes his hand over his forehead where his fringe is sticking because it is so fucking hot out, and starts crying. Because the cake is sodding awful and literally looks like a piece of shit, and he just wants to do this for Harry so bad. He wants to show him how beautiful he is, and how wrong that fucking douche that hurt him is, and wants to give him a bloody fucking cake.

Because Harry isn't fucking fat, and even if he was Louis wouldn't give a flying fuck. Harry is gorgeous and precious, and Louis has never loved anyone the way he loves his boy. His beautiful boy that can make a job out of baking, and be twice as successful as that fucking lowlife douchebag. _Fuck_.

So he throws on his shoes, stuffing the laces down the sides of them instead of tying them, and he dashes down the stairs and out of the complex. He sprints to the sweet shop down the street, tears still welling in his eyes.

He has this deep, anxious feeling floating in his stomach, choking him on the sweet scents that surround him as he enters the shop. He picks out the first cake he sees in the showcase, knowing that Harry is going to be home soon. It is chocolate fudge and buttercream, and he isn't going to deny that even his mouth is watering at the thought of how good it is going to taste. He grabs a pack of candles and lighter right at the check stand before paying, because this is a celebration, and goddamn it they are celebrating.

(Unfortunately, his rush is met dead, because Harry has his key in their flat door as soon as Louis makes it up the stairs. He curses under his breath as Harry looks up to him like he is crazy.)

“What is that?” he asks, smiling curiously.

Louis isn't though. He just pushes past him and inside the flat, walking to the kitchen to put it next to his disgrace of a cake. He bangs his head against the countertop as his next pathetic movement, letting out groans and whines and he doesn't know if it is the heat or the disappointment he feels that is making him want to start bawling.

He goes to hit his head against the counter again, but is met with something much softer. He nuzzles into it, smelling his favourite smell of all- Harry.

“What is all this?” Harry asks lightly.

Louis mumbles into his hand and Harry laughs.

“C’mon, seriously?"

Louis takes a deep breath and straightens out, “I wanted to make you a cake and it was going great, but then I fucked up, and kept fucking up, and so I started crying and went to buy you a cake and I got candles and fucking everything, a-a-and I can't believe anyone would ever call you fat, Harry. Jesus," Louis shoves his palm into his eyes to stop from crying, "you're perfect, and I just wanted to surprise you and-a- but then you were already here, so it’s not- and I- I d-” Louis’ ramble is cut off by Harry's lips gently pressing against his, and all the stress melts away at Harry's touch.

“I wanna taste it... please?”

Louis blinks, dazed. "Uh," he starts, reaching to tear the label from the box that the sheet cake is inside.

“No, not that one,” Harry rushes, pushing Louis’ hand away, “I wanna taste yours.”

The swoop the rushes through Louis' tummy has no name, all he knows is that it is a good swoop as he smiles shyly, “But, uhm, there are candles,” he says, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He has gone from a pathetic mess, to a pathetic, _shy_ , mess. His emotions are just a little all over right now, he thinks.

“Then how about you get it ready,” Louis watches Harry's finger trail over the counter as he talks, “and I’ll go get changed into something more comfortable.”

Okay. Louis feels hot all over as he aligns the red candles into a heart, having to shove them into the cake at different lengths due to the unevenness of the shitty thing. He quickly grabs the lighter, sending a silent 'thanks' to Zayn for teaching him how to use one way back when he was fifteen, and also helped him overcome his fear of the flame catching his hand on fire. He has to flick it a couple times, but the flame does flicker out eventually and he lights each of the red sticks.

He frowns, though, because he wants the candles to make the glow, rather than just being a little lighter. He wants them to be the light, the _prominent_  light. He turns all the lights off in hopes it will help the candles glow better, but it's summer and the sun flashes through the curtains on the windows, still illuminating the room. So he grabs the dark purple and blue blankets Harry has in the basket next to the couch, hanging them over the rods above the windows in the kitchen. It darkens the room enough to where the lumière of the candles is at least the salient light of the flat.

Louis can breathe now, he thinks. The cake hopefully tastes better than it looks, and Harry is home and not at all disappointed in his awful cake making skills, and so he lets himself just _breathe_.

Harry steps into the kitchen, shyly. His hands crossed in front of him and his knees pointed inward. He smiles bashfully. And fuck that, Louis forgets what breathing even _is._

He is biting at his lip, chin pointed down, and Louis notices a light pink dusted across his cheeks. His curls are combed over, longer than Louis had realised as they are sleek and shiny and straight on the top, until they reach under his ears and they curl into messy ringlets.

His chest is bare, but the candle light is glimmering on his skin and Louis can tell that he just lotioned his skin in his lavender-dazzle cream, the one that spreads light glimmer dots over his skin. Then his hips, _god_.

Louis steps closer, holding his breath as Harry does a slow turnaround, showing him the lace trim and bow-back of his cheek knickers. The sexy strapping cloth meets the soft mesh and lace, and then forms a bow of silk ribbon. There are thin cut outs between the straps that run over the swell of Harry's bum, and the lace trim hugs Harry's bum cheeks, allowing just enough of the bottom of his bum to peek out as he continues to turn. His little love handles just barely poke over the edge in small bumps of soft skin that makes Louis want to sigh in contentment that this boy is his, and he gets the privilege to love him. His cock is tucked neatly inside, a clear outline of it through the fabric of it resting against his hip. He just looks so sexy, but innocent, and Louis has never felt so entranced, so breathless.

“You look so beautiful, Harry,” he whispers, eyes trailing back to Harry's as he watches his pink cheeks turn red.

Harry sighs happily, stepping closer to the counter and looking to the cake. The illumination of the small flames make his face appear like honey. He smiles, looking back up to Louis. “Do I make a wish?”

Louis doesn't like that idea. He remembers his little sister crying because she wished for a puppy one year on her birthday, and they never got one. Granted, she was six years old at the time. But anyway, Louis has other plans. Very sappy, cheesy plans, because those are the ones that count.

He nods his head ‘no,’ before, “You can only blow out one at a time.”

Harry looks confused but he smiles nonetheless with a small nod. He puckers his lips, carefully leaning over to make sure he only blows one of the flickering flames out. The wax is leaking onto the cake a bit, but Louis doesn't really take notice to that because it already sucked in the first place, and because Harry shines so bright, and at times, it is blinding to everything else.

“What now?” Harry asks, more candles flickering still as he glances to Louis.

“That candle was for how beautiful you are,” he says softly, “inside _and_  out.”

Harry's lips stretch over his teeth. In a perfect world, he'd be able to control the exhilarating rush of fondness that spreads through him, making him appear less as a desperate tosser for every bit of accent Louis gives him. But the world isn't perfect, he knows. So he tries not to care about the squeaking noise he makes in the back of his throat, cheeks flushing and eyes filling with those types of tears of being so happy. He tries to keep his breathing steady as he blows another out, incredibly fast if you were to ask.

“For how kind and gentle you are with everybody and everything.”

He's biting his lip as he tries to get the breath through his lips for another.

“Your charm.”

“Your cooking ability.”

And another.

“Your strength.”

Harry finds it hard to believe that someone can see all the good in him when he has so much bad.

“Your perseverance....”

“....all of our courage…”

“....that you still get out of bed every day, no matter how you're feeling….”

“.....and the fact that you can make me fall in love with you more, each and every day.”

Harry looks up to Louis. In a perfect world, Harry wouldn't be a blubbering mess of emotions, and also wouldn't come off as needy as he is when he desperately pulls Louis in for a kiss, but the world isn't perfect, he knows, and he isn't either, and Louis loves him more for that, he knows.

The thing is though, Louis is looking back at him like he is the most important thing in the entire world; like it is enough for him to only see his face the rest of his life, like it is all he needs, wants, and craves. Louis is looking at him like he has been searching for something a lifetime, and he found that something in him. He is looking at him like, ‘ _Oh, there you are.’_

Harry pulls back, knocking his nose against Louis’ as he stares down at the thin pink lips that he can still feel burning against his own, glossy from his own lips. Louis slips his own arms around Harry's waist, hooks his fingers together right above the swell of Harry's laced covered bum, and presses closer. Always, always closer.

When they kiss this time, it is just a gentle press of their lips, hope-n-love light as they stand there, holding each other, realising with their lips locked together in a slow, tasteful kiss, that this is their reality. This is who they are, and this is what they are, and this is what it is going to be. In a perfect world, this wouldn't exist. In a perfect world, Harry would be okay. But in a perfect world, everything would be so perfect that you wouldn’t have to search to find it.

There are stars on the tip of Harry's tongue as it licks open Louis’ mouth. Between each space of breath, and the lapping of their tongues, he breathes galaxies into his mouth, until Louis is breathless from the quasars twirling in his throat. His tongue is the Milky Way and his teeth are the stars, and Harry, _god_  Harry, he is the sun to the earth that is floating in the space between them; their reality.

He pulls Harry impossibly closer, lining their bodies up as they hold each other gently, their kissing getting softer. Soon, it is just sluggish pecks and lazy tilts of their heads. A love song played with only the fabrication of the sound of lips moving against each other and soft sighs dripping into the air.

Harry pulls away first, licking his lips, laughing lightly under his breath. “You're distracting me from tasting my cake.”

Louis pulls away reluctantly, snorting at Harry. “Have at it, s’not that great though.”

Harry smiles, “But... it’s for me," he drags slowly. Louis made him something, and of course it isn't great, it’s perfect.

“Yeah," Louis nods, "it’s for you.”

Harry can't stop the shit-eating grin that spreads over his face as he picks out all the candles, being careful of any wax that may still be hot. He sets them down on the counter, next to the bowl of cherries, and glances up to see Louis watching him. Harry smirks, decidedly picking up the cake and walking to the little table in front of their couch. “Strip,” he calls back to Louis.

Louis eyes widen as his cheeks break with a grin, “What?”

“C’mon, get down to your pants,” Harry whines playfully, sitting down on the wood flooring and scraping his finger through the chocolate frosting. He places his frosting covered finger between his plump lips, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on it obscenely, staring up at Louis with wide eyes, and it is all the convincing Louis needs.

(To be fair, he never needed convincing in the first place, but the convincing makes him unbutton his jeans a bit faster.)

Louis sits down next to Harry- crisscross applesauce- and Harry nudges his way into Louis’ lap; half leaning against his chest, sitting neatly in the dip of Louis’ thighs, and Louis wraps his arm around Harry's back, and nuzzles his neck.

They're both half hard in their bottoms, but it’s a nice kind of hard that just makes them feel warmer against each other. Harry wipes his finger through the icing on the cake again, finger dipping into the cream cheese in the middle as a pleasant surprise, before he pulls it out. Louis raises an eyebrow, as Harry nudges his finger between Louis’ lips, holding his neck with his other hand. Louis nips at Harry's finger as he sucks all the frosting off, sucking off the chocolate, mind racing whilst his arm on Harry's back slips lower down his waist.

Harry smiles, pulling his finger from Louis' lips with a small snicker, digging a piece of the cake itself out with the frosting, placing the tiny bit on his tongue and pulling Louis’ face closer. It’s so obscene, the way Louis licks the piece from Harry's mouth until it’s between both of their lips, biting away a piece of it as Harry takes the rest in his own mouth. Chocolate frosting covers their lips as they pull away and swallow, laughing with their foreheads pressed together.

“It’s not that half-bad when we eat it like this,” Louis hums, licking over the chocolate frosting that covers the corner of Harry's plump, perfect lips.

“What do you think Li and Zayn would say?”

Louis snorts, kissing Harry’s cheek, “They've probably already done it, kinky bastards. Did I tell ya’ they have a daddy kink?”

Harry chokes on his tongue, “Seriously?

Louis smirks, dipping his own finger into the chocolate frosting and tasting it, “Zayn said Liam spanks him.”

Harry’s jaw drop and his eyes glisten. “No way.”

It’s so childish, the way they talk about it as if gossiping, “Yes, way,” Louis replies.

Harry just shakes his head, smirking. “Kinky, kinky,” he says through his teeth with a smile, wiping his finger through the whipped cream at the top.

“We can’t say much, I just gave your chocolate-covered finger a blowjob.”

Harry rolls his eyes, wiping the sugary sweetness that was on his finger, across Louis’ cheeks,

Louis’ eyes widen, his mouth falling open in an amused, shocked expression. He ‘tsks,’ his fingers gripping Harry’s side harder before he is pushing Harry to the ground. “Someone’s been a naughty boy,” he teases, and Harry laughs loudly, not even protesting when Louis straddles his lap. “Does daddy need to spank his naughty boy?”

Harry snorts he is laughing so hard, cheeks a bright red and eyes clenched closed. Louis can't help but to laugh too, feeling an incredible amount of joy filling his body as he swipes his finger in the cake that isn’t forgotten just yet, smearing it down Harry’s chest.

The weird feeling of frosting over his skin is what makes Harry slowly stop laughing, eyes opening to see Louis getting more chocolate on his fingers. Louis smirks to see Harry watching, then rubs his fingers over Harry’s neck and face.

Harry gasps, and Louis can’t help but to laugh at Harry’s reaction, throwing his head back in laughter and eyes crinkling closed. Harry almost doesn't do what he is about to do, because Louis just looks so pretty like this; laughing in the dim glow of the light that seeps through the curtain and blankets over the window in the kitchen, skin a warm liquid-gold and smile infectious. But he supposes it has never stopped him before, even though there wasn’t a before. So he quickly slides the cake to the edge of the table, and it 'accidentally' ends up completed mushed into Louis’ chest, and smeared all the way down his stomach.

Louis freezes, his mouth opening in surprise.

“You didn't.”

Harry blinks innocently, tilting his head to the side with a pout to his smirky lips. Louis cocks an eyebrow, mumbling an incoherent, "naughty," as he runs his hand down the mess of his bare chest, and presses it to Harry’s, smearing hand prints of chocolate, cream cheese, and whipped paste over Harry’s chest and sides.

Harry sticks out his tongue, silently scoffing an 'i don't care' as he puts both of his hands to Louis’ chest and smears the cake over his sides to his back, and then under his pants to his bum. Louis shakes his head ‘no’ playfully, making ‘tsk’ sounds as he grabs Harry by the curls, pulling him in for a rough, literally sweet, kiss.

Harry kisses him back just as hard, meeting him first with his tongue rather than his actual lips, ignoring the fact that there is a cake smeared between them and frosting in his hair. He just sucks on Louis' lips and tongue, moaning at the sweet taste he licks off of the back of Louis' teeth, squeezing Louis' arse in his cake covered hands.

“I love you,” Louis murmurs against Harry's lips, hands trailing down to his hips.

“Don't you dare ruin these panties,” Harry murmurs back.

*

Between the subtle brush of Louis' knuckles over Harry's cheek, and the interval of every passing second that Harry leans into the touch, Louis thinks he can see the improvement in Harry's eyes. He will lay there, eyes blinking slowly, and whisper, 'i love you,' in spite of everything. He runs his hands over Louis' ribs as if he is ready to unclench his fists and hold onto something other than the past.

When Harry wakes him up at night, it isn't from the sound of hushed sobs, but from Harry wrapping his arm around his waist, and pulling him tighter in against his chest. Louis notices when they have enough time to brush their teeth together, that Harry doesn't scrub his mouth so hard that his gums begin to bleed. He doesn't swish mouthwash five times a day. He doesn't look down when they are holding hands to make sure Louis is still there. The small signs of improvement are there, Louis sees them.

He decides to give something a go.

“Harry, love?” he says. He pulls up a pair of his denim shorts, the ends rolled up to show off even more of his thighs. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, he thinks to himself. Harry is tying a head scarf around his head, glancing in the mirror to pull out different curls. He hums out a response and Louis continues. “Do you think, we could like, put away some of the body washes and toothpastes? Just a few of them?"

Louis doesn't expect the reaction he gets. Harry just starts trembling, eyes welling with tears as he shakes his head fervently. “No! No! Please don't! I-I-” he begs, panics, “I can still feel him! I can still taste him, Lou! Please don't, I’m-I'm so dirty, Lou, please don't!”

Louis’ heart breaks for the first time in weeks as he wraps Harry up in his arms. He holds onto him tightly, rocking back and forth.

He just keeps yelling, “No! No! No!”

And at least this time, someone is listening to them.

*

The next day Louis texts Niall a message saying:

_Agent Whoran, we got black ops mission, are you ready? Over._

Of course, agent Looseville. whats the mission? Over.

_goddamn it niall its louisville. im not loose._

excuse me i don't know who this niall lad is, tho he sounds proper handsome. i think u got the wrong number tho mate

_meet me at hallmark asap agent whoran._

you didnt say over. over.

_meet me at fucking hallmark right now or i swear to god i will tear u a new one. OVER._

thats more like it agent looseville. see u there. over. ;) 

 

The first thing Louis does when he sees Niall at the Hallmark in the mall is slap the back of his head and yell “over” at him. Niall smirks like the bastard he is, not even flinching. God only knows how much Louis loves him.

“What's the mission, boss?” Niall laughs. He follows Louis, who has a pout on his lips and arms crossed over his chest, to the card section.

“Need to get Harry cards.”

“What kind of cards?”

“Anything to let him know how special he is, or to make him laugh. I don't know.”

“Oh,” Niall pauses, seriousness flushing over his face, “how is he doing?”

Louis holds his assertive position only a millisecond longer, before he is slouching and letting Niall take him into a soft hug. “I don't know, it felt like he was doing better, you know? But then something happens and it’s like three leaps backwards when we only took one step forward.”

“Hey, it’s going to take a while, y’know? He isn't gonna get better overnight.”

“I know, I just,” Louis pauses, sulking further, “I just wish he could.”

Niall rubs Louis’ back, eyes landing on a card. He picks it up, handing it to Louis. It has a chicken on it, so he assumes it’s funny and will cheer him up. It does.

(Louis ends up getting all of the ‘get well soon’ cards, anniversary cards, and whatever Niall picked out because he trusts Niall has good taste in cards. At least based off all of the past birthday cards he has gotten from him.

He even uses some of his put-away money to buy Niall an over-emotional, sappy, romance card that will hopefully make him cringe in disgust when he finds it in his bag later.)

That night, he sits Harry down on the couch. He stands in front of him, and reads every single card out loud to him. Whether it is long or short, or absolutely bonkers, he reads it to him. To some of them, he makes up his own words, and pretty soon, he is just spewing out different things he thinks about Harry, scooting the cards to the side and just letting Harry know how fucking great he is.

He has Harry crying by the last card, the one Niall handed to him with the chicken on it, and Harry laughs through his tears at it.

Louis holds him, taking all the slow, sluggish kisses Harry offers as 'thank you's' until they fall asleep.

*

There is a wide expanse of nothing inside of Harry; fields and fields of questions and apologies and no’s, yet none of them get answered. Louis tries to find a tangible form for the words 'he’s gone,' but he keeps coming up short as he rubs Harry's back and wipes away his tears. If he could have any wish, it would be that Harry had the powers of a phoenix; he could go out in a blaze and remake himself from his own ashes.

(Sometimes Louis thinks when Harry goes vacant, it is because he is hearing his voice again, other days, he thinks it is because he thinks he is trapped in a room with no doors or windows, the only noise is a constant playback of the sound of silence.)

Harry is tucked in bed. He was up all night crying, and now his body is sunken and his eyelids are a pale purple, only opening half way. Louis stirs the pot of noodles that he is cooking on the stove, squirting in lemon juice and sprinkling in bay leaves for extra flavour.

He types in the number written on the piece of paper that is stuck to their refrigerator. He presses his cell phone to his ear and turns the stove off, pushing the pot of noodles to the side.

“Hello!” a woman's voice chimes, “my name is Jesy and this is the Westfield County Library, what can I do for you?”

“Uh, hello, Jesy,” Louis says, chewing his lip, “this is Harry’s boyfriend. H-”

“Louis!” he hears through the phone line.

“Uh, yeah. That’s my name.” he says, almost confused.

“God, does Harry go on and on about you, dear.”

Louis smiles, surprised by what the girl- Jesy- is saying. He can’t help but to smirk, “Does he really?”

He hears the girl scoff through the phone line, “Prettiest eyes, softest lips, stinkiest feet, big cock, and apparently the best arse around.”

Louis laughs, he can’t help it. He feels himself blushing as he shakes his head, “Yeah, sounds like me.”

“Oh, that’s just 8% of what he says about your looks. We can’t even go into your personality, it would take years to tell you all he’s said.”

Louis doesn’t know why he has the sudden urge to snuggle his face into a pillow and squeal, but it’s there, and he isn’t going to push that feeling away.

“Anyway, love,” Jesy says, “why you calling? Harry isn’t here, he doesn’t have to get here until…” she trails off, and her voice strains in the way where Louis knows she is leaning to look at something, probably a time schedule.

“Oh no, that wasn’t why I was calling,” he starts, “he isn’t feeling too well, actually.”

He hears a soft ‘aw,’ through the line.

“Yeah, not feeling great at all, really.”

“Poor thing, I hope he starts feeling better. I can easily cover for him, so tell him not to worry about it.”

“Alright, I'll tell him.”

“And Lou? Is it okay if I call you Lou? That’s what Harry always says,” she trails off, “anyway, Lou, you better take good care of him for me. I won’t allow for anyone hurting my babydoll.”

Louis wants to coo. He just- it’s so thrilling to know that there is someone else who cares for him like he does, even if he doesn't know who they are.

“Don’t you worry, love. He’s in good hands.”

“Oh, that’s another thing he said you had!”

Louis snorts again, saying a short goodbye and hanging up. He can’t help but to smile, really. He does wonder why Harry has never told him about knowing anyone named Jesy, though, because of the sound of it, they seem pretty close.

He sighs, spooning out a bowl of noodles and grabbing the in-bed tray. Harry is awkwardly curled in on himself, eyes red and dark hollows highlighting above his cheeks. He sees Louis walk in and smiles weakly, sitting up.

“I’m sorry I didn't wake you u-”

Louis cuts him off, “You don't need to apologise, Harry. There is absolutely nothing to be sorry for, understand?”

Harry sighs and nods, sitting up more as Louis places the tray over his lap. Louis sits down beside him, quickly deciding not to ask about Jesy, at least not yet. Maybe he’ll ask when Harry is feeling a bit better.

He picks up the fork, twirling the noodles and blowing on them lightly, before holding them up to Harry's lips.

“I can feed myself, you know,” he grumbles, but the tired smile that covers his face is all the reassurance that he isn't annoyed.

“Fine,” Louis says, and puts the fork to his mouth instead. Harry pouts languidly at him as he chews the noodles obnoxiously loud.

His lips are bruised and bitten, and Louis wants to kiss it all away.

He gets another fork full, cools it off, and this time Harry opens his mouth and lets Louis feed him.

Somewhere in the midst of it, Louis finds himself murmuring, “Tell me when you feel warm and whole again, love.”

(And they both know what it really means.)

*

“I just don’t know why. Some days were good, but then he’d just snap. I just- I remember him comparing me to a punching bag. That was all I was to him.”

*

Louis tries.

He tells Harry they can’t eat dinner till midnight, and then he turns off all the lights in their flat. They set the table in the dark, giggling as they stumble to sit, spilling some of the food. Their eyes aren't adjusted to the dark yet, but once they are Louis gets some improvised blindfolds. They sightlessly try feeding one another. Louis is sure he has some of the chicken pasta stuck to his cheek, and that home-made ice cream is smeared over his nose. He doesn't know what the damage to Harry is, but he knows he is laughing so hard he is snorting, and Louis can practically feel the happiness radiating from Harry to him.

They slow dance to fallingforyou and sex by The 1975, their foreheads touching, kissing slowly, with their palms pressed together unless they are wrapped around waists or necks. The sway back and forth, never breaking eye contact unless for a kiss, and the first time Louis tries to dip Harry down, they fall over. Louis lands on Harry, and they laugh until theyre in tears with, “and on this night and in this light, I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you” playing in the background because their hearts are beating louder.

Louis makes a fake stage, a horrible stage really, out of the coffee table and cardboard boxes, and they do Elvis Presley impressions. Harry combs his elusive mess of curls back, using half a bottle of shitty hair gel he bought from the store across the street to get the shape right, and even then, a curl falls down in front of his eyes. He sings “A Little Less Conversation” though, and says “Thank you, thank you very much,” in perfect tone into the play pretend microphone that is a hair brush. Louis screams loudly, clapping wildly as he throws fake roses at Harry, pretending to faint when Harry winks at him.

They go to a little pet shop a few blocks away. The let the kittens lick their fingers through their cages, and watch the gerbils run in their wheels. The birds squawk more than unwelcomely at them, and the snakes slither around with their little tongues hanging out. They're 100% convinced that one of the ferrets was a pirate in its past life because it has an eye patch naturally coloured into its fur, and it keeps clawing its way up the cage. They hold hands, fingers clasped as they walk through each aisle. They stumble along the tanks and tanks of coloured fishes, and next thing they know they are bringing home a little goldfish with a dark tipped fin. They put it in a cliché round fish bowl, with a bunch of little pink rocks and a small little castle. They name it illimité, meaning: not limited. As they watch the little guy swim, they can't help but bite their lips and smile, because this little fish is theirs.

(One day they are out sitting on the balcony, sun shining down onto them. A thin coat of sweat covers their skin as they sip strawberry milkshakes, knees bumping together. Every once in awhile a cool breeze will ruffle their hair, calming their skin, and making them moan around their straws.

They watch the people below on the street shuffling around, going in and out of shops and stores. The buildings across from Harry's flat complex are all only one story, so it’s easy for them to gaze over it to the park that is behind it; filled with trees, and kids, and laughter.

Louis notices the way Harry watches everything both closely and distantly, flinching at things Louis can't pinpoint. Harry has been through literal torture.

Louis has been wanting to ask him something for a while now.

“Harry, love?” he says quietly, still looking through the cracks of their balcony bars. He hears Harry hum around his straw and his lips turn up into a small smile. “How come you were so, like, good with me?”

Harry glances to him confused, his eyebrows lining. “What’d’ya mean?”

Louis sighs, “Like, I mean,” he pauses, picking over his words, “why aren't you more scared of me? I mean, _no_ , like how is it you trust me so easily?” Louis pauses again, “It isn't that you shouldn't-just- what you went through- it seems like you would have more of like, trouble, especially with, I don't know, having a _lover_ ,” he says the last word with a hint of humour.

(Harry's legs begin to bounce next to his, and Louis tries to pretend it isn't bothering him.)

“Well,” Harry starts, mouth still around his straw. He takes a small sip. “I-” he pauses. “ ‘Member the first day in the cafeteria? It was so crowded and noisy, and I was so scared. But I saw you, and I just- I guess I just decided if I could sit next to any stranger who could possibly hurt me, it would be you.” Harry laughs under his breath, “S’pretty stupid, I know.”

Louis huffs out a breath that is supposed to act as a laugh, and Harry continues speaking.

“And like, everything was really nice, you didn't tell me to like, _scram_  or anything. Um, but then you started talking ‘bout the strawberry milk and my nails being weird and I-”

Louis knows before it is being said, that he doesn't want to hear the rest of the words leave Harry's mouth.

“I, um. I left, and I ate in the outdoor bathroom, crying. I believed what you said too, I believed it was weird. I 100% believed after that, that like, everyone saw me the way _he_  saw me. A-and that no matter what I did, I-I wasn't pretty. Nail polish didn't make me pretty, or clean, and I just- I ate in the dirtiest place, feeling dirtier than ever.”

Louis feels tears burn his eyes, but he doesn't wipe them away; doesn't think he deserves to. He has never hated himself as much as he does right now.

“I mean, I hid myself away from people for two years, you know? I got a quiet job, and I strayed from uni activities, and I locked myself away. I always thought it was my fault. And, I guess in my form of healing- which was awful, let me tell you- I was just starting to accept the fact that, you know, maybe I could be okay again. Because in the split second when I asked you if I could sit down with you, I felt so brave. I wouldn't even ask workers at stores where certain things were, but I managed to ask you that.”

Harry pauses, and shakes his head 'no' instead of finishing. No. No. _No._

He rubs his thumb over Louis’ knee, pressing it against his skin to let him know it's okay. It’s okay _now_. Louis doesn't feel very okay.

“But then, like, weeks later you came up to me and apologised. And jesus, Lou, you don't- you don't even know what you did to me there. I was so confused. I went home after, and I cried and cried and I didn't understand why you apologised after all that time, why you even cared in the first place, cause you didn't even know who I was.” Harry laughed under his breath, “But you did, and you admitted you were being a prick, and you didn't beat around what you did or try to blame it on anything. You were just honest.

“Then, when you forced yourself to my flat,” Harry laughs a little, shaking his head, “I was so fucking scared. You were literally the first and only other person to ever come into this place. It’s just 'pink', and 'pretty,' and ‘girly.’ I just- I thought as soon as you walked in you were going to burst out laughing, and then spread it around; take the piss out of me until I died or fled the country or something. But you accepted it, and moved passed it, and that was literally it.”

Harry puts a strong enunciation at the end of the sentence, clasping his lips closed in a straight line. He takes a quick sip from his smoothie, putting his hand on the inside of Louis’ thigh, squeezing it lightly.

“Before you, I would hide when I broke my own things, scared he’d show up. I would freeze at loud noises and I was always scared to take showers because of the loud spray. I was so anxious and so paranoid. I literally almost changed my name.”

Louis still feels the tears slipping out of his eyes. This is a different Harry. This Harry seems so free and open and invincible, whilst at the same time, more vulnerable than ever.

“Meeting your friends, and taking me out, and the way you were so protective of me even if it was just changing the subject we were talking about. You saw the things that made me uncomfortable and fixed them.” Harry smiles at Louis, and Louis smiles back sadly, “and all of that helped.”

He sighs, looking back out over the balcony. “I know what I went through was horrible, was- was absolute torture. I also know I didn't deserve it, and that, maybe, if I knew you then, I may have went to the police. I know that you made me realise that not everyone is like him. And I know it is a bit more than cowardly that I’m still not reporting it because what he did wasn't some little harm, it was disgusting, and evil. And I am always thinking: what _if_  someone else is going through what I was going through with him, you know? I think about that every day.”

Harry takes in a sharp breath. Louis really wants to scream ‘it's okay!’, and hold him through all of this, but he chooses to sit still instead. “But then I also think about the fact that, if I did report it, and it wasn't happening to someone else at the time, he would know it was me. He would, Lou,” he shakes his head, “and every day I hope that if it is happening to someone else that they are smart enough to report it, or at least run. But I-I can’t,” he says simply, “because I know I'm far from being okay again, but I am also closer than ever to being okay again, you know? And as fucking selfish as it is, I'm not risking that or the one thing in life that means the most to me.”

Louis lets out small sob, he is crying, god, he is crying, and Harry's thumb is rubbing gentle circles on his thigh, and it's so hot out and he _hurts._

“And Lou, to answer your question, it was so easy giving myself to you after everything. It was so easy. It was easy letting you touch me and kiss me and hold me. Because I fell in love with you in the way falling in love with someone is supposed to make you feel like: brand new.”)

 

 

( **vii.**

Louis ends up filling out countless job applications for no sodding reason, because one day he is getting a call from Niall, telling him to get his arse down to the pizza shop he works at. Next thing he knows, he is wearing a pizza apron with a little cap, and working shifts with Niall. So yeah, Louis does really love Niall, even if he never says it out loud.

Today is his first Friday since the job, and he gets to open the shop up. Despite having to get there two hours early to mop the shop up and do all the cleaning, he thinks Fridays are his favourite days to work, because he only has to work ‘till 12:50.

It’s 1:00 now, though, and he is carrying two slices of pepperoni with pineapple, one cinnamon stick, and a small order of spuds with him. It isn’t for him though, no, he just randomly decided whilst in the middle of scraping gum off the bottom of tables that, _‘hey, i should totally take harry lunch.’_

So he is, which is new, definitely new, because Louis has never been to the library Harry works at. Not because he hates reading or anything, but because he likes to own the books he reads.

When he walks into the large library, the first thing to hit him isn’t the smell of books, but the loud laughter of his boyfriend. Which is great really, although he was expecting more silence, since it's a library and all, but nope, that is definitely Harry’s laughter he is hearing.

He walks through the stamped-open doors and is met with the sight of Harry with his mouth wide open, head tilted back.

“1, 2, 3!”

Louis hears a familiar voice of a girl- Jesy- and looks to see her holding a bowl of grapes, tossing one at Harry and it bounces off his nose.

“Better work on that aim there,” Louis chimes, and Harry’s mouth immediately shuts.

“Louis?”

“Hey, love. I get off early on Fridays so I thought I’d bring you some lunch.”

Harry looks nervous, almost, as Louis leans over the library desk to give him a hug.

“Louis!” he hears next, and turns to see a gorgeous girl jumping in place, holding her arms out for a hug as well.

“Jesy!” Louis replies in the same tone, quickly hugging the girl he has just met. She smells like peaches, and has big, beautiful, brown eyes, and lovely, plump lips.

“Turn around, turn around. Let me see the _assets_.”

Louis spins for the girl, already surprisingly loving her.

“Wow,” she says, taking out her phone, “don’t move, I need to get a photo of this.”

After Louis hear the ‘snap’ sound, he turns back around. “Pretty great, I know,” he comments, giving his bum a smack. He then turns to Harry, who has a blank face, and still hasn’t said anything.

Jesy seems to notice the silence too, and looks to Harry, “You alright, babe?”

He shakes his head, not making eye contact, “Do you guys like- I don’t know- how did you know her name?”

Louis feels the knot in his chest tighten. Something is off. “I talked to her on the phone, love.”

“Oh, o-okay.”

Louis glances to Jesy, and Jesy gives him this look. This look like she knows, and that they both know, and Louis realises that Harry is hiding a lot more from him. He doesn’t address it though, instead, he pretends like everything _is_  normal, and kisses Harry goodbye after chatting with Jesy a bit.

(Louis is waiting on the couch when Harry gets home from work. Harry freezes upon opening the door, and there is a moment, a moment where they just stare at each other. Louis feels a little bit angry, and a little bit sad, but most of all confused.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing that comes from his mouth.

“You have friends.” It’s not a question, but a statement.

“Um.”

Louis can see Harry start to tremble, and all he wants to know is why Harry is hiding it from him.

“Harry,” he urges blankly.

“I do. I mean- friends- I have f-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Louis’ voice is monotone, and he just feels so _uncomfortable_  with everything.

“I-I-”

“Just tell me, Harry!” Louis yells frustratedly, making Harry flinch.

“I’m so sorry!” Harry sobs suddenly. He quickly goes to Louis on the couch, practically falling onto him as he just keeps murmuring, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Louis didn’t- he just wants to know _why,_  that’s all. He didn’t mean for this to happen. He doesn't want _this_  to be the case.

“I’m so sorry, I am.”

“Harry-”

“He didn’t let me have friends, Louis. I wasn’t allowed, please. I’m so sorry.”

_Crack._

Louis immediately wraps his arms around Harry. He doesn’t think, he doesn’t beat himself up or feel guilty, he just holds Harry. He holds him, feeling his heart bruise his chest. He shushes him gently, trying to calm him down. He focuses all of his attention on Harry, and doesn’t allow himself to feel mad at himself.

“Harry, _Harry_ \- look at me.” Louis urges, grabbing Harry’s chin and gently turning his face, “you’re allowed to have friends, I want you to have friends.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmurs again.

“Shh, babe, _baby_. Don’t be, don’t be sorry.”

“That’s where I went, that night - that’s where I went.”

Louis nods, wiping at the tears on Harry’s cheeks, “That’s good, love. She seems so sweet, I’m glad you have her, okay baby?”

“A-and when you went out with Zayn- the reason only five were left- Jesy, ‘nd Perrie, ‘nd Niall stopped by.”

“Niall?” Louis asks softly, more curious than anything.

Harry nods, sniffling. “I-I invited Jesy over one night, before you moved in and weren’t here. A-and on the way over she ran into Perrie and Ni, and then they all came over.”

Harry says it like Louis’ a priest and he is confessing his sins.

Louis rubs his back. “Harry, that’s okay, it’s okay,” he kisses Harry’s temple, “I’m kind of wondering why Niall hasn’t said anything about this to me, but it’s still okay,” Louis laughs lightly, holding Harry tighter against him.

“And, Harry?” Louis says, ignoring every emotion, "I would really love to meet your friends."

 

**vii.**

It is the little things Louis and Harry are doing that is helping him get in a position of recovery. They are working on it, in the subtlest of ways. And it is hard, it is. Because with what Harry went through, he should have a therapist. He needs real, actual counselling because what he went through was something more than just an unhealthy relationship. It was something agonising, traumatic- it left psychological damage on Harry that Louis can't fix.

But somewhere in the back of Louis’ mind, there is this hopeful little piece of him that thinks by making Harry happy, by giving him the love, and safeness, and adoration he deserves, and missed out on, he can get Harry to go to one eventually. He just needs to show Harry it's okay. It's okay, he is safe, and that he only wants the best for him.

(He found Harry between the lines of heartbreak, and now he wants to make him feel so whole he won't even be able to fit between those lines.)

At this moment, Harry and Louis are walking down the busiest streets of their city, boutique after boutique, shop after shop, licking at their ice cream cones. Harry's is two scoops of vanilla and Louis’ is cookies-and-cream. It is a nice Saturday off, and they figured it would be good to get out of the flat and go on a bit of a date.

Louis stays close to Harry through it all, knowing he gets nervous in loud and busy situations. They've stopped and looked in multiple shops, mostly to cool off a bit before continuing, but they haven't bought anything except the ice cream. It is not until Louis stops to throw his cone away that he looks to Harry and sees him eyeing a boutique across the street. Its portion of the long line of rented places is painted romantic morn pink, and then in a more briquette colour of fancy letters, reads: _dentelle et de l'assiette._

Louis smiles to himself, biting his lip as Harry finishes his cone off. With his new source of income, and not having to worry about going into his money he puts back, he thinks it is about time he splurges Harry a bit. He isn't exactly sure why buying Harry things makes him so happy, but he thinks it is because it is more ways of reminding him he loves him.

Harry gives him that face as they cross the street, that “I-know-what-you're-doing-and-we-are-not-doing-it” look. Louis opens the door to the boutique anyway with a smirk, listening to the chirp of the bell above the corner of the door. Louis knows that Harry likes a lot of the pretty, soft stuff because it helps him cope. But he also knows that he was the one who introduced Harry to panties, and that there is a thin line between what Harry does to make himself feel clean, and what Harry does simply because he wants to. There is a thin line between things he wants and needs.

Harry groans, “Lou, you don't ne-”

“Harry,” he whines, “I have some extra money, let me _spoil_  you.”

Harry huffs, rolling his eyes as he walks inside, pretending his cheeks aren't flushing red.

The shop is painted a nice, pale, oasis blue. On one wall lines deep reds and purples, with black lace and trim; there is garters, and corsets, and stockings, and other items under the pretence of “naughty.” There is a section of nighties, some risqué and daring, and others a bit more innocent. There are pale coloured items, with light pinks, and purples, and yellows. Panties, and more panties, and round racks of lingerie, and bits of clothes, and makeup. Louis’ head just swirls with the thought of Harry in all of it.

He grabs one of the baskets, much to Harry’s displeasure. “C’mon, I know you have to want something.”

Harry gives in with an eye roll and flush to his cheeks, “Only one thing,” he tells Louis with mock sternness, before Louis is pushing him to go look for what he wants.

Louis looks too, abandoning Harry's one thing rule as he finds bubble-gum lip smackers and wonders how it would taste on Harry's lips. Then he sees a wand and a tube- it’s mascara- and Louis wants to know how Harry's doe eyes will shine. He comes across fake-diamond hair clips, and flowered ones too, and he can't help but to think about how Harry's curls are just getting longer, and his hair fluffier, so he throws them in.

(It is strange, really, how absolutely revolted Louis is by vaginas and boobs, and honestly, just the overall appearance of women can get Louis soft because that is how into cock he is. But Harry in clothes like this, _jesus_ , it doesn't take even a minute to get it standing.)

As he strolls mindlessly through the boutique, ignoring any odd stares he may be given, he happens to touch a white, cotton t-shirt. He ends up throwing it in for himself, because it is just so soft and thin and he just can't help it. He picks out another for Harry, too, knowing he’ll enjoy the feel of it, especially with how the summer has been.

He’s about to turn to go find Harry, when something catches his eye. It is a nightie. A simple, white nightie with four finger width straps around the shoulders, and a rounded dip with simple ruffles outlining it, then a few buttons down. He can see little design prints, and at the bottom it flares out a bit due to some tufts, and Louis just really wants to see Harry in it. It is just so innocent and pretty, and it is not - he isn't getting _stiff_  to the image of Harry in it - he blushes though, and his heart swells a bit, because it really is just a genuinely pretty thing he thinks Harry should have if he wants it. So he picks out a size that will fit him, and goes to find him with this deep, nervous anticipation.

He is by a cerne rack. When Louis rounds it completely, he sees Harry holding a pale, pink pleated skirt - simple, sweet, and really quite lovely. Louis can't even help the 'jesus,' that escapes his mouth when he imagines it on Harry, though.

Harry looks up, startled, blushing furiously when he sees its Louis, “I just- I was just looking- I don’t-”

But Louis cuts him off by setting the basket down and taking the skirt from Harry's hands. The fabric is nice and soft between his fingertips, but also very firm, so it keeps its shape. It zips down three-four inches to slip on easier, and is designed to be a bit high-waisted. He holds it up to Harry's waist, mouth-watering when he sees it would end mid-thigh. He can already picture how it will curve perfectly over Harry's plump little bum.

“You’d look so pretty, baby,” Louis says softly, finally tearing his eyes away to see Harry fidgeting with his fingers. A high blush spreads across his cheeks. “Can I get it for you?” Louis asks.

“Um, I don't know,” Harry says shyly, “are you sure you don't mind?”

And this is what Louis loves most about their relationship. The fact that even though they are best mates, and they've been dating for quite a few months now, they still get each other flustered over the simplest of things.

“Of course not, love.” Louis says, smiling gently at Harry, before breaking the little bubble they are in, “I-um,” Louis looks for the basket before realising it is on the floor, “I picked stuff out too.”

“I thought we agreed on one item.” Harry says, shaking his head.

“Uh yeah, which usually means like five or ten items,” Louis retorts, “I don't know if you’ll like what I found, though, but, I kinda wanted to get the stuff for you?” Louis cocks his eyebrow, tone shy and questioning.

Harry picks up the two cotton t-shirts, and Louis starts speaking, “One of those is for me. It has just been so hot lately, and they're thin, and soft, and they don't look like they're girl shirts, they just look like shirts, so…” Louis rambles off, and Harry runs his fingers over the fabric.

Then Harry picks up the nightie. Louis’ stomach twists and he is positive his cheeks are red. He just really hopes Harry doesn't find it odd.

Harry smiles. He bites his lip as he glances to Louis, “S’this?”

“Oh, um. It’s a nightie? I mean, I know you haven't really- or you don't really wear clothing like this, like dresses and stuff. But I saw it and I just- you-it is hot at night-and,” Louis lets out a breath, “I just know you would look very pretty in it.”

There are two dimples on Harry's pinkening cheeks, and his eyes look like the green seas you see on the cover of travel brochures. “Okay,” he says so softly it is like a whisper through his grin. He takes in a heavy breath as he picks up the other items.

Harry lets out a small laugh, it is a sweet one though, as he says: “I’m starting to think you want me to be a girl.”

“God no,” Louis gags, shaking his head quickly, eyebrows lined seriously, “I just- you're very pretty, and I think you should have pretty things.” He shrugs, “I’m not looking at this like a boy/girl thing, Harry. I use to, but now I just see them as clothes anyone could wear, and like, pretty things. And if a person wants something pretty, they should have it.”

The smile on Harry's face grows wider, and then Louis adds in quieter, “But just to reassure you, your cock is just as pretty as you are, and if you ever grew boobs I’d probably never be able to get hard again.”

Harry guffaws, head thrown back. A few customers, along with employees, glance at them, but Harry is happy so Louis doesn't mind a bit as his eyes crinkle up and he smiles at his boy.

They look around the store a bit more, Louis insisting Harry gets some new panties, and after a small argument, Harry finally gives in. He gets one pair of sky blue panties that have dainty white lace rounded onto the leg hems of them, and then on the top a wider piece of white lace is sewn around, flaring out a bit. The other pair has a white crotch with light pink polka dots, a little pink bow sewn to the top middle. Then pink mesh covers the hips and bum, and they're so incredibly innocent and so incredibly sexy, Louis doesn't know what to think. The final pair he lets Louis buy him is a white thong with two inches of white lace covering the waistline, and where the thin strap meets the waistline above the curve of his bum, sits a little pink bow.

They get 20 off since they spent over 75, and then they're rushing home with giddy stomachs and big grins. Harry starts kissing Louis as soon as he puts the key in the door, pushing him back into the flat with a small giggle to his lips. He kicks the door shut behind him, and Louis drops the bags as their tongues meet in each other’s mouths. Each time they try to stop kissing, they end up just pulling each other closer.

“Clothes,” Harry gasps against Louis’ lips, but makes no attempt to pull away, “gonna- clothes- try on,” he murmurs, pressing his lips harder against Louis’ with teeth clacking and heavy breathing.

“Yes, please.” Louis answers back, still sucking on Harry's lip and lightly nibbling on it. Harry moans into his mouth, pushing himself closer. Louis’ hands trail down to Harrys bum, squeezing each one of his arse cheeks tightly, pushing Harry's arse forward so their crotches roll together. Harry has one hand on the back of Louis’ neck, and the other on his hip, grinding into him with small gasps.

They both pull away, heavy breaths rolling out of their bruised mouths as they stare at each other with flushed faces. Then they just pull each other back in, not even hesitating with their hot, open mouths, and wet tongues, and neediness for each other. It's not until they stumble over their bags and are forced apart do they giggle, kissing each other again lightly. Harry shakes his head, pointing to the short hallway where the bathroom is.

“Go,” is all Louis manages to breathe out, and Harry nods, fumbling with the bags. Both of them laugh excitedly under their breaths, and Harry stumbles from the room.

Louis closes his eyes, not letting his hand palm over his already hard dick as he walks to the kitchen and gets a glass of cold water. Harry is so- and the- _Harry_ \- Louis is so overwhelmed as he gulps down the water, trying to compose himself. He wants this to last. Definitely doesn't want to end up coming in his pants at just the sight of Harry alone, and though Harry may be extremely flattered if that happened, Louis would want to dig a hole and bury himself out of embarrassment, because god damn it, he is 22, not 15.

He sits down on the sofa, hands running down his thighs as he waits, squeezing his knees. He runs his fingers through his fringe, flicking it back as he lets out a heavy exhale. He tries to distract himself from the thoughts of Harry in the bathroom, lace and pink, and makeup, and _jesus_ , he can't. He is weak, so _weak_.

After what feels like eternity, Harry slowly pads out from the bathroom, peeking his head around the corner of the hallway. The moan that escapes Louis’ throat is deep and rough, and he hasn't even seen what Harry is wearing yet, but he is picturing it, god, is he picturing it.

He breathes in deeply, smiling softly and patting his lap, “Come out here princess, lemme see you.”

Harry walks out looking like a fucking seraph. His hands are folded in front of himself in mock shyness (Louis knows), and he blinks his big doe eyes. Louis’ heart feels raw from pounding against his ribs, but the pink skirt fits snugly right over his hips, falling a bit higher than mid-thigh on Harry's long, shaved and lotioned legs. The light pink looks so flirtatious against Harry's no longer pale, but light maple-syrup skin, and all Louis wants to do is bite and lick and kiss.

Tucked into the top of the pink skirts waistline is one of the white cotton shirts Louis bought. Except, instead of looking just like a flimsy t-shirt, it looks dainty. The sleeves are rolled up at an angle, making Harry's small but muscular arms look more petite than ever. It is a bit baggy, and the collar of the shirt hangs down, revealing his delicate collarbones and chest. It is falling over the edges of the skirt gracefully, and the breast pocket on the shirt hangs at an awkward angle, making the shirt looking even bigger, and Harry even tinier. Louis doesn't know if he is even still breathing.

“You're so beautiful, Harry. Will you spin around for me?”

Harry bites his lip softly and does as asked. From the side view, Louis can see the small sweep in Harry's back, and the way his bum pushes the skirt out in the most divine of curves. There is a bulge in the front from where his cock is hard underneath, tip rubbing against the fabric as the skirt flits up due to Harry spinning. Louis wants to tape it- wants to tape it and keep this forever, because he has never seen anything more sinfully beautiful than the way Harry looks right now.

“Oh baby, you're so gorgeous, you know that?” Louis says, eyes trailing up and down Harry's body, before stopping on his face, “come sit down.”

He spreads his legs a bit, patting at his lap. Slowly, Harry walks to him, a slight swing in his hips as he lets a small smile tug at the corner of his painted lips. One of his hands holds the aft of the couch for stability as he straddles Louis’ thighs, skirt puddling around both of them.

Up close, Louis can see the gloss that covers Harry's lips, and can smell the bubble-gum aroma of it. His cheeks are powdered in the blush Niall picked out- Louis finds that Harry likes it quite a lot- and his eyelashes are black and full, making his already large eyes even bigger. He looks angelic, _feels_  angelic as Louis’ hands cup his jaw, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones. His cocoa curls are parted to the side; the bangs of the larger section of hair pulled back by the fake-diamond hair clip. The roots of his hair are straight and shiny, and then as they go down, they turn into gorgeous curls that fall sweetly above his shoulders.

Louis runs his fingers softly over the hair-clip, watching the way it glimmers in the light, before meeting Harry's eyes, which shine even brighter. “Absolutely perfect,” he whispers.

Harry bites his lip, dimples jutting in at the smile that covers his face, eyes darkening. Louis lets himself look down, his hands trailing down Harry's chest and stomach, to his bare thighs. He runs his thumb under the very edge of the skirt, bathing in the feeling of Harry shivering on top of him. He runs his hands a bit higher, watching the subtle movement of Harry's cock twitching under his skirt. A low moan unregrettably leaves Louis' throat, making Harry buck up in his lap.

“Is princess wearing any panties?” he decidedly asks, voice light in tone. He can't help but to wonder what great thing he did in a past life to be privileged enough to know and touch Harry in this one.

He sighs happily, smoothing his fingers around Harry's thighs and to his bum, squeezing each bare mound of arse in his hands, rolling his arsecheeks in his fingertips. He allows his fingers to sneak between them, finding a thin piece of fabric that must belong to a thong. He smiles, pulling on it lightly, making Harry whimper and buck forward again, seeking friction. Louis smiles wider, praising the boy. “Princess _is_  wearing panties.”

Louis removes his hands from Harry's bum and places them on his waist instead. He presses his thumbs in with more pressure than the rest of his fingertips, gently rubbing circles- thinking; thinking about how much he really, truly loves Harry, how much his heart bursts at the mere thought of him. He leans forward and kisses Harry's cheek, lips barely grazing his skin before pulling back. “Are you going to let me taste those lips of yours?”

Harry bites his lip again, trying to hide from Louis the smirk that's threatening to spill over his face- a fucking tease he is. He blinks, before finally tilting his head to the side and giving a small nod.

Louis smiles and leans in, fitting his lips to Harry's. They're sticky, and when they move the lipstick smears under his lip and over the corners of his mouth. He softly bites Harry's bottom lip, before licking over it gingerly. Harry tastes sweet, exactly like the lip smacker flavour he got- bubble-gum. But Louis’ favourite taste is the underlying taste of Harry when Harry licks his own way into his mouth. Louis is sure he has never swallowed as much saliva that isn't his own before, but he doesn't mind. Instead, he laps Harry's mouth up, loving every piece of him. Every taste, his taste.

God, he can taste him. He can taste him on his lips, and tongue, and teeth, and gums. He can taste him in his shallow breaths, and when he swallows, and when his thumbs rub under the skirt and across his burning skin. Harry is developed into all his sense. Taste, touch, smell, feeling, hearing- _god_ , when Harry moans, he moans too, because it is the most contagious of things.

These kisses are a lot slower than the ones minutes before, though. It is just their lips locked and mouths open and tongues rubbing together as they tilt their heads, breathing out of their noses and onto each other’s cheeks. Their noses bump together, and the lip gloss is a bit weird and slimy, and their chests are burning from lack of oxygen, but they’d die faster with lack of each other.

Harry's thumb rubs behind Louis' ear gently, playing with the hair there, and his other hand is placed on his shoulder, nails slowly digging in. He slowly grinds down on Louis. His hips roll like waves and crash onto Louis with a force that takes his fucking breath away. And Harry loves it. Loves knowing that he is the reason that Louis is so hard, panting hot breaths. He loves knowing that Louis loves him.

Louis moans into Harry's mouth, before pulling away and licking over his lips, still tasting- trying to catch his breath fast. "I think I wanna taste something else now."

"What's that?" Harry breathes out, batting his eyelashes innocently.

Louis can't help but smirk at how unbelievably naughty Harry really is; at the thought of all the dirty things he has said and done to Louis. He feels so honoured to know Harry trusts him enough to do all this, to touch and play. God, no one has ever been able to make his heart and dick swell quite the way Harry does.

"Hands and knees and I'll show you."

Harry smiles wickedly, eyes darkening impossibly more until they are just a sliver of ember. And he has that look in his eyes- that look that is thanking Louis because he knows he is about to get his favourite thing besides Louis - which is Louis’ tongue.

He makes a show of climbing off Louis' lap, moving his little hips a bit more than necessary and lifting his skirt up just enough to tease Louis with the bottom rounds of his arse, before getting on his knees at the other end of the couch, and leaning his head and arms against the arm of the sofa. He wiggles his bum a little more, and arches his back, loving the feeling of the skirt riding up even more.

Louis can't help but to growl, quickly tearing his shirt off and unbuttoning his jeans so his dick won't castrate itself, because he is sure Harry could get him hard enough for that to happen, really. After he slips them from his ankles, he gets behind Harry on the couch, a breathy moan leaving his lips at the sight.

"Is it alright if I touch, baby?"

Harry nods his head fervently into his arms, and pushes his bum back for further approval.

Louis makes a happy noise in the back of his throat, moving his hands up the back of Harry's thighs, feeling every bump vividly under his fingertips, thumbs pressing into the insides of his thighs and spreading his legs further apart, before settling between his legs.

The skirt is hiked up Harry's plump little arse already, thin string of the white thong Louis bought him earlier barely noticeable, unless Louis chooses to spread his cheeks apart- which he does- hooking his thumb around the thin string and pulling it to the side so he can get a good look at Harry's tight, little hole.

"Can I taste, baby?" Louis asks sweetly, squeezing Harry's arse in his palms.

"Please," Harry nearly whispers, "yes, please taste me."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Louis says, leaning in and placing a lingering kiss to one of his arsecheeks.

"Love it," Harry croaks, "love it so much."

Louis kisses around his rim, loving how worked up Harry is getting. He stops to nibble little bits of his skin, sucking a love bite on his lower bum. He just barely pulls back, breathing hot air right over his pink, fluttering hole, "Yes, and princess always gets what princess wants, huh?"

Harry whines out another desperate ‘yes,’ pushing his bum back more, his back arching into a lovely dip. And that is really all Louis needs before he is leaning all the way in again, and licking a slow, wet stripe over his hole, adoring the small noise Harry makes in return.

He does it again and again; licking fervently over and around his rim, sucking small lovebites around it and massaging Harry's arse with his fingertips, using his thumbs to spread him further apart.

He pulls back, puckering his lips and spitting on Harry's pretty hole, getting him nice and wet before diving back in, giving fast, deliberate kitten licks, over and over. His tongue is velvet against Harry's smouldering skin- each coherence he touches leaves a burn mark of “yes, yes, please, more.” Harry tries to press back, tries to get Louis to press his tongue inside, but Louis moves back with him, teasing him with thick licks and feather light kisses.

His fingertips knead at Harry's cheeks, closing and spreading them again, murmuring over his bum, “Be still for me, baby.”

Louis leans in again once Harry huffs a breath out, nodding. He smiles, licking a fat stripe over his hole, teasing around the rim. He licks wide, sloppy circles around his puckered hole, but he never quite goes over it again, because making Harry whine beneath him is something he could listen to forever.

“My, what a beautiful little hole you have,” Louis notes as he pulls back again, letting one of his thumbs dip down and rub over it; pink, and wet, and swollen. “Would you like me to taste some more, baby?” Louis inquires sweetly, kissing Harry's right bum cheek.

“Yes, yes, _please_ ,” Harry pants desperately, head in arms, “more. Always more.”

Louis smiles, dipping in once again, except this time, he surprises Harry by delving the tip of his tongue into his tight heat. He has to grip Harry's arse firmly to hold him in place, Harry so surprised by the sudden stretch that he jerks backwards, tensing as a high pitched moan emits from his throat.

“More, please more. Please Lou.” Harry whines in desperation, and Louis can no longer deny his princess.

He dips his tongue back in, fucking in and out, moaning softly, because _god_ , he revels in this, in Harry. He just loves the feeling of Harry's walls clenching around his tongue, the sweet taste that is Harry and only Harry. The sounds he is gushing only encourages Louis to bury himself in deeper, lapping inside of him, so fond of the little whines, and he can even picture the face Harry is making into his arms. Louis loves the delicate smell of Harry's skin, the feeling of his thighs trembling, the taste of his arse.

Louis spreads Harry apart impossibly more, lapping his tongue in further, trying to get as much as Harry as he can. He pulls out, licks back in, pulls out, nibbles and tastes his rim, pushes back in, and _jesus_ , does Harry love it; with his bum rocking back, and his legs shaking, and voice breaking off in desperate cries, _fuck_ , he is so _needy._

Harry just really loves getting eaten out, is the thing. It is his favourite thing, and Louis never fails him with his sinful fucking tongue. Always lapping relentlessly into his fuck-hole until he falls into that perfect rhythm that makes tears stream down his cheeks, and his body shake in the most glorious of overwhelming senses. He lets incoherent noises slip from his mouth, so desperate he doesn't care if he is being too loud, doesn't care if the noises are unattractive, or if his legs are quivering.

He whines when Louis pulls back completely, letting his thumb smear his spit over Harry's pretty little hole, tip of it catching on the opened rim and making Harry gasp. Louis would have kept going, would have done it until he has made Harry come again, and again, until there is nothing else inside of him. But he sees that his cock is heavy and leaking between his legs, and he is actually really particularly fond with the idea of Harry riding him with his pretty, pink skirt pooling over both of their laps, and his unruly curls bouncing on his head, like the way he wants Harry bouncing on his cock.

He sits back, running his hands over the dip of Harry's back. “You tasted so good, baby. So yummy.”

Harry sits up as best he can on his wobbly knees, turning to face Louis. His own face is flushed, and his eyes are glistening with need and Louis. His hair is an absolute tsunami of a mess. “Need you to fuck me,” he whimpers, biting at his lip. He pulls the collar of his shirt down, thumb flicking over one of his nipples as he throws his head back and whines more, he just wants _more_.

Louis can't help the gravelliness in his voice, and the way it cracks as he breathes out. “Yeah?”

“Yes, yes.” Harry whines, pinching and pulling at his swollen nubs and biting at his lip, “Need you so bad. Need your big cock.”

Louis’ eyes roll back in his head, a rough moan breaking through his lips. He lifts up his hips, pushing down his pants and kicking them from his feet. Louis doesn’t know when it slips from his mouth, but he finds himself asking: “Princess has a bit of a naughty mouth, saying things like that. Naughty princesses don't get what they want, do they?”

Louis almost thinks Harry is going to burst out laughing, instead though, Harry tilts his head, smiling sinfully and batting his black painted eyelashes in that mock, pure way he does. He crawls over Louis’ lap and straddles him again, grabbing Louis’ wrists and guiding his hands to his arse. He bites his lip, leaning in and whispering hotly over the shell of Louis' ear: “ ‘ve’been naughty so you’d spank me.”

And Louis’ the one choking on an inhale as Harry sucks on his neck, grinding his hips down. Louis’ not- he’s-

No doubt spanking has been as his mind since Zayn had mentioned it. He has been thinking about Harrys perky little arse in the air, rubbing over it, squeezing each mound in his palms before feeling it hit his palm in a low sting. But with all that Harry has been through he never thought Harry would actually want it and now he’s- oh, _fuck_. Harry really is naughty, so very filthy.

“Going to have to if you want to get what you want,” Louis tuts breathlessly, kneading his fingers into the soft skin of Harry's arse. Right now, he is blurring between reality and Harry, and he is choosing Harry, Harry, _Harry_  every time.

Harry nods against Louis’ shoulder. “I guess so, huh?” he whispers, rolling his bum back further into Louis hands, arching his back and pressing his chest closer to Louis’.

It is when Louis feels one of Harry's hands trailing down his chest to his crotch, starting to rub over his heavy cock, that he decides to lay the first smack on his pert, little bum. One hand holds the back of his skirt up at the small of his back, and the other landing on Harry's right cheek with a light crack. He tests the waters first, making sure Harry really does want this. He thinks when Harry gasps into his neck, that he really does like it. And then Harry is turning his head into his shoulder, his fingers momentarily stopping from palming over his dick as he shudders out an uneasy breath, and Louis thinks he really, really, likes it.

“That's not enough to get what you want, is it princess?” Louis asks tunefully, and his only answer is Harry shaking his head ‘no.’

He brings his hand down again, not softly, but not too hard either to the same cheek, still a bit nervous about hurting Harry. But Harry is biting into his shoulder pitifully, moans slipping out of his mouth and hips stuttering against Louis’.

Louis gives a few more smacks, switching to the other side and then back again, trying to decide if he likes all of the small gasps leaving Harry's lips or the sound of his palm slapping his arse more. After just a couple more especially rough spanks to his bum, Louis has Harry shaking in his arms, teeth sunken into his shoulder, and whimpers falling from his lips as breathless, ‘more, more, more’s’ fall from his bitten lips.

Louis can feel the burn radiating off Harry's arse cheeks and onto his palms, though, and all he wants to do is flip Harry over and pepper kisses all over his little bum. But he doesn't, instead: “That's enough, don't you think baby?”

Harry feels like warm honey on the inside, like every piece of him is suspended, and all he can string together is a bunch of, ‘fuck me, fuck me, fuck me’s.’

Louis leans down and kisses his forehead, which makes him blush and lean up into the touch, hips rolling over Louis’ hard dick. “Do you think you can ride my cock, darling?”

There is something in the way Harry's eyes light up in excitement that sends shivers down Louis’ spine and a smile to his face in the utmost of fondness. His pretty baby, that's what Harry is.

“Would you like that, baby?” Louis coos.

Harry nods quickly, “Very much.”

He slides down Louis' thighs to sit on his knees between Louis' legs. His mouth waters at the sight of Louis' cock curving against his stomach, flushed a dark red colour, tip glistening from smeared pre-cum. He opens his eyes wide, eyelashes flickering up at him as he presses a kiss to the base of Louis' cock. He places his lips back against his length, grazing them up to the head of his cock and sucking it into his lips. He swipes his tongue over the slit, Louis' quiet moans only encouraging him as he sucks around the head.

"Mmm, you like that?" he murmurs over the tip of Louis' cock, slowly dragging his tongue over it.

Louis gasps, "Love it, baby."

A dirty as fuck smirk spreads over Harry's face as he licks over Louis' swollen cock again, making an obscene slurping noise before pulling away. "Bet you'd love me riding you even more, though."

"Fuck, Harry. Baby," Louis groans, grabbing a fistful of Harry's curls, "you're filthy."

"Jus' for you," he slurs like he is drunk. That's how Louis feels too. Harry's hands trail up Louis' thighs and then back down. He gives Louis' cock one last little kiss before slowly standing up and turning around. He hikes his skirt up, shaking his bum in Louis’ face.

“Your bum is so red, sweetie,” Louis notes thoughtfully, leaning forward to press a light kiss to the smooth, sensitive skin. Harry mewls softly, hooking his thumbs under the waistline of his panties and slowly dragging them over the round of his bum and down his thighs, bending all the way over and pushing his arse in Louis’ face as he slips them off his ankles. Louis feels more than blessed by the sight, cock twitching in interest against his stomach, precum dripping down the underside of his heavy cock and onto his stomach.

Harry turns to straddle Louis again, but Louis stops him, “Gonna need lube, love.”

Harry winks, fingers slipping in the breast pocket of his shirt and pulling out a travel size packet of lube. He smirks, whispering in his seductive way, “You think I’d forget?”

Louis’ eyes widen. He cocks an eyebrow, both pleased and shocked by how kinky Harry can get. He remains speechless as Harry straddles his lap again, watching him tear the foil of lube with his teeth. “How about I be a good boy and slick you up, whilst you” Harry drags it out, running his hand down Louis’ chest again, “open me up?” He blinks his dark and full eyelashes, and Louis is quick to comply with the suggestion.

 

He has a hand wrapped around his cock that is drenched in lube, and he is three fingers deep in Harry's tight arse, crooking them upwards and nudging the tips of them against Harry's prostate. Harry's hand fumbles around Louis’ cock, his back arching and his mouth falling open, a small moan tearing through his throat. Louis smiles at his boy, at how pretty he is.

“Ready, baby?” Louis asks, crooking his fingers one last time before slowly pulling them out.

And it's nice, really. Because usually whenever Harry and Louis fool around, Louis’ mind can't help but to hesitate, always drifting off to think about everything Harry has gone through- all the trauma. But he hasn't thought about that, still isn't thinking about that. All he can wrap his mind around is Harry and how this is just them. It is just them and they're safe with each other. And it's perfect, Louis feels perfect, and Harry _is_  perfect, and it is all perfect as Harry grips the base of his cock and slowly sinks down onto him; tight hole engulfing his cock into the hottest heat. Louis lets the moan rip from his mouth as he feels Harry all around him. It’s safe.

_Safe._

Harry bottoms out with a little gasp, and then a sigh.

“Don't rush yourself, alright?” It isn't a part of what they are doing. Not a part of the princess, and baby, and teasing. It is in genuine concern and love, and Louis kisses Harry's forehead.

Harry wiggles his bum a little, feeling impossibly full of Louis. He doesn't move up yet, no, not yet. He circles his hips a little though, teasing Louis; feeling the tip of his cock rub against his spot, and he momentarily wonders if he can make the both of them come just like this. Just slow, little movements of the hips.

He’s going too, but not today.

“S’good?” Harry teases, smirking at Louis, who is gripping his waist.

Louis groans, he knows Harry is comfortable now, and all he wants to do is fuck up into him, tear him apart. He has this tight arse clenching around his dick, and the fucking arse won't move. Harry is a lot of things, he is. Pretty, and soft, and all the synonyms, but right now, all he is is a-

“Tease."

Harry just smiles innocently, smoothing out his pretty pink, little skirt that is puddled around both of them, making sure it looks nice and neat. If anyone were to walk in on them, it would simply look like Harry was just sitting on Louis’ lap. Minus the part where Harry is wearing a skirt, and Louis’ pants and jeans are scattered across the floor, and a lube packet is torn next to them.

Right when Louis feels himself going crazy, low whines making their way up his throat, Harry lifts himself up, the tip of Louis’ cock hooking on his rim before dropping back down, making both of them choke out a gasp.

He does it again and again; bounces up and down on Louis’ cock, circling his hips as he does so. Louis’ nails dig into his waist, helps pull him up when his thighs start to quiver, and forces him down harder on his cock, knowing that he is hitting Harry's spot whenever Harry screams out incoherent words and throws his head back.

Soon enough, it is sloppy, messy bouncing. A dark patch is prominent on Harry's pretty little skirt from where the precum of his cock is smeared into it. His curls are bouncing with him, his cheeks flushed, eyes closed, head thrown back, and mouth open as uncontrollable little gasps leave his mouth every second, lips a cherry red.

Louis’ inside of him, at his waist, kissing his neck, moaning his name. God, Louis is everywhere. He is hovering over his lips, trying to kiss a little, but it is mostly just hot panting into each other’s mouths. Louis grips Harry's arse, spreading him apart and pulling him down on his cock at a different angle that makes Harry scream out his name. His early-coated yellow nails are digging into Louis’ shoulders, leaving crescent moon marks all over the expanse of them as he tries to bury himself deeper, get closer.

“So pretty, baby. Bouncing on my cock like that. God you're so pretty,” Louis moans into his neck, biting lightly over his skin there. He hisses through his teeth when Harry swivels his hips in a little figure eight, his own nails digging further into wherever they are at on Harry's body.

“Yeah?” It sounds so slutty, the way he whimpers it. His eyes are glassy like crystals, and his lips swollen as he rocks back down.

“Fuck,” Louis breathes, kneading his fingers into Harry's plump arse harder, thrusting his hips up to meet Harry dropping down on his lap. Harry arches his back and Louis presses his forehead against his chest. He sucks one of Harry's erect nubs into his mouth through the fabric of the white shirt, soaking it, biting at it, licking over it until it is clear to see through the thin shirt, and then he does the other one just the same.

It makes Harry's hips stutter in his clumsy rhythm, choking on whimpers with tears filling his eyes, because he is so fucking close. Jesus, he feels it like how he feels he is on fire. The way Louis touches him, the way he is inside of him, kissing, loving, fucking. Jesus, he has never felt so warm, so full.

And jesus christ it’s the most cliché, porno fucking thing to say, but Harry thinks Louis’ cock might just be filling all the empty spaces in him at the moment, and his words are ceiling over the cracks, “So pretty darling, princess, baby.”  “ _You're perfect, so perfect.” “I love you so much, pretty baby. Love your little arse, your cock, your tongue, baby._ ” Harry is thriving off the praise, the adoration he never got before, and he feels like he is about to burst everywhere.

“M’close darling,” Louis grunts, “are you close too?”

Harry whines out a string of 'yes’s' as his thighs tremble. Louis brings one of his hands to the front of Harry's skirt and smooth’s the pad of his thumb over the spot where Harry's cock is leaking precum from under the fabric. “So wet for me, baby,” he smooth’s over it once more, before taking hold of Harry's waist, “gonna let me come in your pretty arse, hm princess?”'

Harry nods his head fervently, bouncing faster, faster; rocking his hips sporadically, uncontrollably, as Louis touches him. Never wants Louis to stop touching him.

“Fuck,” Louis groans, before, “come for me princess. Come for me.”

And on word Harry chokes on a breath and his cock twitches; bottom lip shaking as he shoots all over the inside of his skirt and on Louis’ tummy. Not a second later Louis’ vision is veneered and he is groaning out Harry's name, coming in thick, hot, ropes deep into his arse, slowly rocking up to ride out his orgasm as Harry's crumples against his chest, whimpering.

They take a moment to breathe. Louis’ hand rubs up and down Harry's back lazily, his own eyes hooding in bliss. He can feel Harry breathing against his neck, his head rested against his shoulder. Both of them are breathing unevenly, their chests rising against one another’s as they stay pressed close. Harry makes a small noise of contentedness, moving his head just the slightest bit to press his lips against Louis' neck softly.

Then they're laughing. It is loud, and ridiculous, and their eyes are too bright for their own good. It is infectious though, and there is something special about the bliss that engulfs them in this globule of air that makes it all too hard to contain.

Louis pulls Harry tight to his chest so he can pull out of him properly, and then lays them both down on their sides on the couch, still giggling breathlessly through their noses.

Harry groans at his skirt, fingers fumbling to unzip the back, and then shimmying it down his legs and kicking it off, but before he does, Louis wipes the come that's drying on his stomach onto it.

Once they are comfortably situated, they both look at each other and start giggling softly again, faces glistening in their glorious post-orgasm state. Louis snakes his hand under Harry's shirt and draws circles onto his back, smiling wide. “Spanking?”

Harry blushes as he digs his head into Louis’ shoulder again, mumbling a shy “Shut up.”

“C’mon,” Louis drags out, pushing Harry's shoulder a bit so he can see his face, and once he does he cups his cheek, “you like that?”

Harry blushes again, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, it probably seems weird, with-” Harry shrugs, like what he is talking about isn't what he is talking about, “but ever since you mentioned what Zayn said - I don’t know,” he pauses, “like, it had crossed my mind before, like, before I knew him. I - I use to watch videos.”

Louis smirks, “You are naughty.”

“Mmm, jus’ for you,” Harry kisses over Louis’ neck, biting gently.

“What were you like?” Louis hums suddenly, “before?”

Harry pulls back, looking at Louis with a thoughtful smile, “Um, quirky?”

Louis laughs loudly, mumbling an "Oh really?"

Harry shakes his head quickly, smile tugging his lips, “I mean, obviously now I am that way. But before it was just- everything?” Harry looks at Louis like he is confused by his own words. “I don't know Lou, I was a dorky kid growing up. You'd probably think I was the biggest loser if you knew me then.”

Louis grins, tucking one of his legs in between Harry's, “Yeah? Well tell me about this, ‘apparent loser.’ I mean, you couldn't have been worse than Niall.”

Harry laughs- his lip gloss is gone, and the pink blush isn't noticeable with his naturally flushed cheeks. His eyelashes are still black though, and Louis loves the way they sprawl darkly over his cheeks when he closes his eyes to laugh.

“Up until I was 12, I would always wear all these, like, different coloured overall shorts. I'd have mummy buy bright coloured socks that went up to my knees too, and always mismatch them. I was proper dorky,” Harry smiles, staring at the wall, “I had this stuffed rabbit I carried everywhere with me. One of its eyes was missing, and it's ear had a patch from being torn open. I would always sing the songs from Love Actually to it.”

“Oh my god,” Louis awes, lips stretching over his teeth as he laughs lightly, “that is so adorable.”

Harry lets out a breathless laugh, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

A moment goes by, before Louis smirks, “I think I need to know, though” Louis starts, wagging his eyebrows, “are there any other kinks we should just talk about now?”

Harry blushes, biting his lip, and Louis’ eyes widen.

“Oh my god, there is!” Harry laughs into Louis’ shoulder, and Louis continues, “c’mon, c’mon tell me! You have to tell me!”

“You’ll think it's weird,” Harry giggles softly. Louis watches him with raised eyebrows, and it is so childish. They feel so young. Giddy and so in love.

“I won’t,” Louis says genuinely, “I won’t, I promise.” He runs his fingers through Harry's curls, taking the hair clip and readjusting it in his hair so the curls that keep falling into Harry's eyes are pulled back. They are both still a bit slicked in a sheen layer of sweat, but they ignore it as they cuddle closer in their pliant state.

Harry sighs, chewing his lip, “Um, can I tell you something... first?”

Louis furrows his eyebrows, “Of course.”

“S'bout him.”

Louis runs his thumb down Harry's jaw. He loves that Harry is telling him more, “That's fine.”

“Well,” Harry starts, “he wasn't- like at first he was really sweet, you know? There were good memories with him,” Harry pauses, “well I mean- there _were_ good memories- but-yeah, you know, _anyway_.”

Louis watches his face carefully, watches as he laughs nervously and continues, “When we were still in high school, and he hadn't like, snapped yet, or whatever went wrong, our friends that we had at the time dared us to give each other handjobs under the table.”

Louis doesn't really know what to think as he stares at Harry. “So,” Harry drags out, “that's it.”

He blinks, Harry clearly avoiding his eyes as his blush only darkens, “That's what, love?”

“The other, um, kink.”

Louis blinks again, eyebrows lining. “Handjobs under desks?”

Harry laughs at that, slapping him gently, “No, you twit. It being like, _public_.”

And, _oh._

Harry sighs. “Like, it’s the whole risk that someone might see, I guess? I don't know, it’s just, yeah,” he ducks his head down and Louis swallows thickly.

“O-okay,” he says, and it’s just, _jesus_. He kind of wants to try that, try _something_. He wants to indulge all of Harry's kinks, and he thinks he might be getting hard at the thought of it, really. God, someone seeing how wrecked he can make Harry, how wrecked Harry can make him.

“See, you think it’s weird,” Harry says disappointingly, “he did too, s-”

“No, _no!_ I was just- I think we might need to go a round two on the balcony or something... if you know what I mean.”

*

Strawberry milk layers their upper lips and they giggle and lick it off of each other. They taste it in each other’s mouths, and on their tongues, and it fills their tummies. There are seven cartoons in the fridge, with one out that they keep pouring into fucking _shot_ glasses. They give each other a ‘cheers!’ and tip it down their throats, instead to wipe away the burning that fills them.

(Harry still has days he needs to feel good on the inside. Louis can see it in his eyes, and on these days, Louis needs it too.

Maybe just as much.)

*

Harry slowly pads out of the bathroom, head bent and lip between teeth. Louis has been wondering why he has been in there so long, but he keeps choosing not to look into it for the mere sake that Harry deserves privacy. Instead, he watches him carefully from where he is at the kitchen counter, going through his emails that he has been neglecting as of late. Harry looks torn though, fingers wringing around each other until his knuckles are white, and he turns to go back into the bathroom, but then turns again, facing Louis.

Louis goes back to looking at his laptop screen quickly, but he can see Harry shuffling closer to him. He hears a soft cough, and, “Lou?”

Louis looks up at Harry's almost frightened tone, breathing out, “Yeah?” It really sounds like more of a ‘ _what’s wrong? Are you alright?_ ’ like what he has been wanting to ask since Harry nervously stepped out of the bathroom.

“Can you, um,” Harry looks down sheepishly, hands entwined together in front of his stomach, “can you help me?”

Louis shuts his laptop a bit confused and stands up. “Of course, what do you need?” He feels like he’s asking too urgently, maybe making Harry even more scared.

“I just wanted you, to uhm, help me put some… stuff away?”

Louis sees it written on his face what it is he is talking about. He looks so frustrated with himself, but most of all terrified, like doing this is going to bring _him_  back.

Louis smiles reassuringly, tilting his head to the side. He softly breathes out, “Yeah,” as he walks around the corner of the counter, putting a gentle hand to the small of Harry's back, “of course, yeah.”

Harry doesn't reply, but they walk to the bathroom, and Louis notices all the body washes on the counter lined up, along with all of the toothpastes and mouth washes.

“All of them?” Louis asks, hand still on his back, his thumb rubbing comforting circles.

“No! _No_ ,” he says in haste, blushing and looking down, “I mean, no.”

There is a piece of Louis that knows this is a more special moment than it could possibly seem like to anyone else. So he kisses Harry's shoulder and neck, murmuring to his skin “okay,” before pulling away and grabbing them all.

“What are you doing?” It's obvious Harry is nervous, but all Louis does is drop them to the ground, before plopping down himself.

He gestures for Harry to take a seat as well, “We’re going to pick out the ones you like the least, love.”

Harry blinks, sitting down unsurely on the small pink rug that sits on the bathroom floor there.

Louis picks up a bottle, “French Lavender and Honey?”

“Keep,” Harry murmurs, blushing.

“Warm Vanilla Sugar?”

“Keep.”

“Coconut Lime?”

“N-no.”

Louis smiles reassuringly, setting the bottle off to the side.

“White Tea and Ginger.”

“Keep, definitely.”

“Eucalyptus Spearmint?”

“I like that one.”

“Okay love,” Louis smiles, “what about Sweat Pea?”

“No?” Harry hesitates, lip pulled between his teeth as he stares at the bottle, “Um, n-no?” he says again.

“It’s your choice, whatever you want,” Louis has taught himself patience between the lines of Harry's sobbing and his own heart breaking. If he were to die tomorrow he’d call it his best achievement.

Harry nods shyly, sighing. “Keep.”

Louis smiles, letting Harry know it’s okay.

(By the end of it, only three body scrubs are put away, along with one of the toothpastes and mouthwashes. Harry seems disappointed in himself, like he isn't seeing the amount of an accomplishment this is. Louis kisses Harry as many times as he’ll let him, murmuring again and again how unbelievably proud he is.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls comment. lots of love to all of you. :-)xx
> 
>    
> snapchat: wankerville  
> [tumblr](http://wankerville.tumblr.com/)


	3. the way it brings out the blue in your eyes, is the tenerife sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hii, so because im a psyche hippie and such i wanted to drop some articles for anyone curious about why the kinky sex in this fic is so relevant and important.  
> ARTICLES:  
> [1](http://www.everydayhealth.com/columns/dr-laura-berman-on-love-and-sex/kinky-sex-associated-with-happiness-relationship-satisfaction/)  
> [2](http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/all-about-sex/201206/loving-introduction-bdsm)  
>    
> in short for those who dont want to read they basically just explain the amount of trust (among other things) that go into kinky sex, and how it can really strengthen relationships and such. i felt it was very important to let everyone know that the kinky smut isnt just self-indulgent but very important to the dynamic of h/l's relationship, and it also represents just how far harrys came to trust louis in the ways he does. :-)
> 
> anyway:  
> [my tumblr](http://wankerville.tumblr.com/)  
> snapchat: wankerville

**i.**

Between sending cat jokes, drunk texts, and dick pics, they all manage to get themselves into an extended weekend holiday.

The group text was Liam’s idea, something they all always kept open on their phones to keep in touch due to all of their different schedules. It works well, as long as you don't include Louis and Harry’s constant need to send pictures of cocks off the internet, and Zayn and Liam's constant flirting, even though they are probably right next to each other- and if they are being honest, it is all for the purpose of annoying Niall. Niall who usually sends sad cat face pictures, or angry rants, or pictures of fake tears streaming down his face because of the pile up of law and uni. It’s truly a struggle.

They all keep in touch, though, which is the point. At least they all know that each other is alive, even if it is through knock-knock jokes and pretend sexting. So, whatever.

It was eleven at night and Harry’s head was in Louis’ lap, both of them on their phones, laughing along to what the other guys were saying, when Niall texted: fuck it i need a vacay.

Liam responded with a, ‘me too mate’, and soon enough it escalated into a, ‘we should take one’, and ‘yeah i can take the time off next week’, and, ‘we could rent a van and go to the beach.’

So that is why right now, Liam is pulling up to Harry and Louis’ flat complex, Zayn in the passenger, and Niall in the middle row of seats. He pulls to the curb and Niall bounds out in his black shades and go-aheads, greeting Louis with a jumping hug and a wet kiss to the cheek, before being dropped to the ground.

You can hear Liam laughing in the background as Zayn opens the trunk of the van. Niall gets up and brushes himself off, not letting Louis’ unrequited affection upset him.

“Hey Curly, ‘ve been missing you, but not your brat of a boyfriend,” Niall says, patting Harry gently on the back.

Harry laughs in response, and Louis huffs, putting one of the bags in the van, muttering a “shit,” under his breath.

Liam offers Harry a gentle smile, murmuring a soft, “Can I hug you, mate?”

Louis watches carefully from where Niall is bouncing excitedly beside him now. Harry smiles with a shy, “Sure,” opening his arms for Liam.

“You’re doing okay, yeah?” he says finally, and Harry's nods with a shy smile at the kindness.

Zayn does the same thing, wrapping Harry up into his arms, and whispering, “Hope you're doing alright.”

Harry nods into Zayn's neck as realisation dawns on him, and he looks at Louis, but Louis isn't meeting his eyes. Instead, he is shuffling his feet on the ground with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Alright, you two have any more bags?”

“Oh, uh- yeah,” Harry smiles, “there is a couple more, I'll go get t-”

Louis interjects, “I can go get ‘em, it's fine.”

“I’ll get them!” Niall yells out, making Louis’ stomach drop as he shakes his head quickly.

“Ni, s’fine. I can get them.”

“Aw, can’t we see your guys’ place real fast though? Never showed us.” Liam pouts his stupid lips, and his eyes are big and brown, and all Louis does is glance to Harry quickly so he doesn't follow through with his urge to slap the boy.

“Um, maybe ano-” Louis starts, before Harry interrupts him.

“It’s okay,” Harry says softly, “it’s okay,” he says again, staring directly at Louis, hoping he knows what he is really talking about.

So Harry and Louis lead them up the stairs and down the corridor to their flat, apprehensively bumping against each other as they walk

Louis opens the door for them and lets everyone inside, waiting for the judgment. He can't help but wonder why Harry's so- so okay with this. He wishes he could see into his mind right now, know what’s going on up there. They need to have a long, private chat.

“This is sick, mate,” Zayn says softly, trailing his hand over the light pink walls as surprise covers Louis’ face- a good surprise nonetheless.

Zayn means what he says, too. The flat is heartening and neat, and even though it isn't exactly him, he still loves it. He thinks it could inspire a softer side of him in his art.

Liam nods in agreement, “It’s so clean, ‘n everything matches. Why doesn't our place, Zi?”

Harry is blushing, cheeks matching the colour on the walls, and Louis can’t help but to take his hand, squeezing his happiness into Harry. Harry squeezes back, just as tightly. This isn't a step, it’s a leap. It’s a giant fucking leap, and Louis can feel his stomach turning with giddiness. He doesn't know how Harry is doing this, opening up not only to him, but to three- well two- other people, whom he isn't even nearly as close to.

“I kind of feel like I’m in a fairytale,” Niall comments beside Louis, “‘s so pretty. Can we start having hangouts over here? It smells better.”

Zayn snorts, rolling his eyes, “You’ll learn someday, Niall."

Louis lets go of Harry’s hand to stand next to Niall. He smirks, quietly whispering, “I know you’ve been here before.”

Louis doesn’t think he has ever seen Niall look so guilty before, and he thinks that it’s even better than an apology.

So it’s okay.

It’s okay and Louis can feel it. He can feel the evident, palpable, pulse of Harry's heart thrumming from his wrist when he presses his lips to it, and locks up their flat. He can feel it in Harry's lingering kiss, and in the embodied squeeze of his hand.

They pack into the van Liam rented out, and then they're off. Niall rolls down all the windows that he can get access to, yelling out “freedom!” into the beginning of the August air that blows through their hair. They all laugh, and Zayn cranks the radio up, “Valerie,” playing loud on the radio, and they all sing along.

Harry tangles his fingers with Louis’ in the third and the last row of seats that is just theirs. Louis smiles, singing to Harry, “Why don't you come on over,” over the whiplash of the wind.

He does. He scoots closer, dipping under Louis’ arm and cuddling into his chest. He can feel Louis’ chest vibrating as he sings along, and an exuberant feeling rushes through his veins, and all he wants to do is laugh.

It’s happiness. Happiness, and living, and he chases the feeling.

 

They didn't actually leave their city until a little before 5:00 p.m., because Liam wanted to finish his shift at the hospital before he went and picked the rest of them up. The drive to the beach they’re going to is a good three to four hour drive, not including breaks. So soon enough, Niall is sprawled over the middle row of the seats, headphones blaring and soft snores lifting from his mouth. Zayn's feet are against the dashboard, a sketch pad in his lap as he scribbles messy lines with his pencil, drawing a landscape of some sort, he has one headphone in, the other dangling down his chest. Liam reaches over and pats Zayn's thigh, before pulling his hand back to yawn into as he looks ahead at the road.

The windows are rolled up mostly- just a crack left down so the van can cool in the late afternoon air. The world passes by them silently, the white noise background of a slightly out-of-tuned radio station filling the gaps of silence, and Louis is slightly surprised that Liam hasn’t fixed that yet. Maybe he is just too tired and focused on driving.

Harry pulls out his phone and opens notes, quickly typing: _you told them,_  before locking it and handing it to Louis.

Louis takes the phone surprised. He gives Harry a confused smile, and Harry just nods. Louis nods his own head in reply, typing in Harry’s password and unlocking it.

He blinks, worrying his bottom lip. He just- he knows he should say sorry, but a part of him isn’t sorry, because he needed the help, he needed someone to talk to too. He still shouldn’t have told anyone, because it happened to Harry, and it should have been his choice.

Louis breathes in shakily, he knows he can’t apologise through text. “I’m sorry, Harry,” he starts, murmuring it against his ear, “I just- I di-”

“It’s okay,” Harry says quietly, cutting him off. He turns to look at him, his eyes are wide and accepting, searching Louis’.

And something’s not- something is happening, something under Harry's skin, and Louis is watching, but he doesn't feel like he is a part of it.

“I have something to tell you, actually,” Harry whispers, never breaking eye contact.

“What is it?” Louis rushes in a whisper, heart rabbiting against his ribs.

“I've been- um-” Harry pauses, wringing his fingers nervously, “I started to talk to a therapist?” he says it so quietly, biting his lip as if asking if that is okay. A part of him wonders if he even said it loud enough, if Louis heard him.

Louis has. Oh _God_ , he has.

“What?”

“It’s only over the phone for now, like, short sessions.”

Louis’ affinity with Harry is bursting, he thinks. Bursting from black and white into a nebula of colour and life, webs of affection and proudness. He feels the dust surround them, no longer the silhouette of darkness, but the bright, bright collision of peculiar galaxies.

He marks this day as the day every broken, small piece of his heart came rushing back into place and with it came the biggest, freshest breath of air.

The person best fit to love you makes you feel full, the biggest, the most.

Louis feels that. God, does he feel that.

“How- when?” It’s just a tiny breath, but god, he’s so-he’s- _fuck_.

“Um, it was after the first time we had sex,” Harry whispers, blushing as he says, “I- you gave all of yourself to me, and I- I want to be able to give all of me to you. I’m yours, so I want to like, be yours.”

Louis bites his lip, this isn't- he wishes it was just them, because that's what it feels like. This feels so intimate, like the type of moment you sew into the skin on your upper thigh. It’s just so lovely, to put it simply, lovely, and wonderful, and all Louis wants to do is touch Harry. Touch him so softly, just trail his fingers over his face, and neck, and chest. He wants to whisper how happy he is, how proud he is, _god_. Harry is the most paralysing feeling; paralysing in the way the entire world stops around them just so their lips can touch.

He reaches over the back of their seats to the trunk of the van, and feels for the plushness of Harry's favourite throw coverlet that he grabbed last minute. He unbuckles himself and motions to Harry to do the same and to lay down. The seats are wider since they are in the back, but still narrow enough that it’s a tight squeeze. He pushes Harry to the back of the seats, and then lays on his side beside him. They have but an inch- maybe two- of space between each other, and their legs are bent awkwardly in the short distance, but it’s okay.

It’s dusky outside, Louis only knows because he can see the sky passing by in the reflection of Harry's eyes. He brushes his knuckles over Harry's cheek. He has so many things he wants to say, whisper, scream.

“Is it helping?”

Harry nods with a small smile. “Yeah. He told me he is glad that I got away, and he is helping me with not feeling guilty about not- like- reporting him. He says that a lot of people don't, and that it’s okay that I didn't.”

Louis blinks, bathing in the way Harry's whispers feel falling over his face. He has never felt so happy before.

“He says most people that have gone through, um, the severity of what I went through, are usually a bit worse off. I told him about you, always tell him about you, Lou,” Harry murmurs, looking down to Louis’ lips. “I told him all the things you've done for me, how supportive you are. He said he wants to speak with you. He thinks that you are one of the main reasons I’m not as bad as I could be, or, um, use to be,” Harry’s smile spells out _thank you_ , and _look what you've done for me_ , and most importantly, _i love you_.

Louis doesn't- he just can’t believe Harry is doing this. He did this, and he did it on his own, and it’s just, it’s _unexplainable,_  the feeling inside of Louis. All he knows, is that he is bursting, and he doesn’t care.

“Like, he explained it weirdly, but- like, he says from what I've told him, he can tell that the way you're helping me, isn't by, like, making me dependent, but by making me happy, and pushing me to be more, open? He thinks you're handling, like, all of this really well.” Harry clears his throat, “But I love you, and I just- I made myself call him. He isn't too expensive, and he’s been a therapist for twenty-some years, and right now he’s helping me with being more open with people, and honest.”

Louis bites his lip. All he knows is Harry is the most beautiful, most brave person he has ever met, and he cares more about watching his eyes flutter open, than he does about watching the sun rise or set.

“I just- I kept thinking about you,” Harry starts again, whispering so quietly, “about how you had to deal with me in my, um, fits? And I wasn't even making an attempt to try and get over what happened. I was just trying to pretend it wasn't real. I knew you didn't deserve that, you deserved more effort on my part.”

“Hey, getting out of bed every day was plenty of effort to please me. You went through a lot of bad stuff, Harry,” Louis leans in and pecks his lips softly, bringing his hand up to cup his jaw gently, and he smiles against the corner of his lips, “and you have no idea how proud I am that you did this. God, I’m- I’m so happy, Harry. You deserve this. You deserve to feel like you again. I- I'm just so proud of you, so, so, proud of you.”

Harry grins, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. He bites his lip, laughing quietly, “Do you think we can just,” Harry closes his eyes, making a couple of tears fall down his cheeks as he smiles bigger, “make out now?”

Louis tries to keep his giggles quiet as he nods his head.

Full.Big.Whole.

Louis presses Harry completely against the back of the van seats, flushing against his body under the coverlet. He kisses him so quietly it feels like they have managed to fabricate the essence of sound into an empty box of take-out that's forever sealed beside them. Their tongues lap into each other’s mouths, as if they don't know what every bump of each other’s gums feel like; every rigid tooth, and slick rooftop, and the sweet, sweet taste of each other.

Louis feels his insides twisting, the matter of that makes him shake- shake as he has the urge to want to kiss every piece that is Harry; every mixture of stardust, and seashells, and the ancient breath of Van Gogh that could have swirled together to make the beautiful tsunami that is Harry.

Louis kisses the corner of his mouth, his cheekbone, and jaw; breathing lightly against his cheek, chest shuddering with need.

They have to be quiet, they do.

When Louis unzips Harry's shorts, and palms him over the flimsy, cotton fabric that contains his cock, Harry giggles and pulls Louis’ hand up, whispering happily- crazed-, “What're you doing?”

Louis bites his lip, sees gold pooling in Harry's irises. He kisses Harry again, just a press of the lips as he slips his hand into Harry's panties.

“Oh.” Harry gasps quietly against Louis’ lips, realising that he is being serious, and Louis pulls back to see that his eyes are  wide.

“You said you liked this, ‘member?” Louis grazes his teeth gently over Harry's neck, feeling his pulse quicken.

“I-” Harry's eyes flutter close and he bites his lip, feeling the pad of Louis’ thumb rub over his slit. “I do- I just- _oh_  - I didn't know if you would be-” he gasps again, bucking into Louis’ hand, “would want this.”

“Of course I would, baby,” Louis smirks against Harry's lips, feeling the way they line against his to hold in the groan that is slowly and quietly slipping out.

Louis squeezes his cock at the base, before pumping him more, whispering, “Gotta be quiet. Don't want anyone seeing you like this, do you-” Louis smirks, adding, “-princess?”

Harry shudders, precum dripping out of his tip already, and suddenly, the world is noticeable. Niall's snoring inches from them, the fast lines of a pencil, the tires on the road, the radio, and the gasps of air slipping through the window.

There is a desperate mix of need, and want, and the word fuck in Harry's eyes as he shakes his head ‘no.’ Louis is stroking him slower now; teasing with light touches, slow pumps, and smearing precum over the tip of his cock.

“I’m so proud of you, baby. Y’know that?”

Harry whimpers, teeth digging into the plush of his bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut.

“So brave, so strong,” Louis murmurs the words over Harry’s cheeks, pressing small kisses to his skin.

Louis never wants Harry to think of _him_  again. He doesn’t want the thought of getting a handjob under the desk to ever cross his mind. Louis wants to be bigger, better, fearless. He wants Harry to have everything he wants, and everything he craves. If he can give it to him, then he will.

It just slips out in a breath against Harry's lips.

“Can I blow you?”

As soon as he says it, he is afraid that Harry has come because of the way his face scrunches up and how his body momentarily freezes, but he hasn't, he wouldn't; not when Louis is offering his mouth.

He shakes his head ‘yes,’ and Louis quickly figures out a way to do it. He slips down onto the floor of the van. There isn't much space, but he folds himself like an envelope on his knees and he whispers a quiet, “Scoot over here, babe.”

Louis doesn't even hesitate to wrap his lips around Harry's flushed cock, pushing his shorts and panties down his thighs just a bit more. He swirls his tongue, dipping it into the slit at the top of Harry’s cock and lapping at the precum. He takes the boy further, hollowing his cheeks and bathing in the exhilarating feeling of knowing his mates are literally right there. His own cock surprisingly strains in his jeans, but he ignores it and gives all of his attention to Harry, because this is about Harry.

It’s different, Louis thinks. Not because he is squished on his knees in a moving van with all his mates, but rather because when Louis usually opens his eyes when blowing Harry, he can look up and see Harry looking down at him with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. Now, though, he just sees Harry’s milky thigh, and the back of the van seats. So it’s different, sucking Harry off when he is lying on his side, but he tastes the same, and feels the same sliding into his mouth, so Louis isn't complaining.

He pops off to look over at Harry. He sees him with his wrist in his mouth and with his eyes clenched close to keep from making any noise, and _jesus_ , Louis loves it. He loves how desperate Harry looks, and how he looks this way with all of his mates just feet away. Niall could wake up, literally just sit up and see. God, just the thought of it gets Louis harder. He loves it, he does.

He takes him down again, trying to keep the obscene sounds of sucking on the down-low as he goes down low on his dick; deepthroating Harry, feeling his nose nuzzle the softness of his thigh as he circles his tongue and swallows around him, throat constricting around his cock, cheeks hollowing around him- and that's it- Harry trembles as he comes down Louis’ throat.

His toes curl and he lets the smallest of whimpers escape from where he is biting into his wrist. Louis holds him in his mouth, continuing to lick and taste until he has sucked out all of his come and Harry is soft and oversensitive in his mouth. When he is done- he pulls Harry's panties up, keeping his breaths as even and quiet as possible as he buttons his boyfriend's shorts, and kisses the soft patch of his tummy that is showing.

He hears Harry sigh, and then there is a hand in his hair, petting him softly.

Louis smiles, shuffling on the van floor so he is next to Harry's face. He smirks at the sight of Harry’s face. He looks completely out of it. His face is dazed and smiling, cheeks dusted in the prettiest of pinks as his eyes turn to gloss.

Harry manages a soft giggle, and reaches over to wipe away come and spit that has dribbled over Louis’ chin, and then he has the nerve to fucking lick it off his thumb.

Louis manages to whisper, “menace,” before he is shoving his tongue down Harry’s throat and tasting him in his mouth. He adores the taste of come- Harry’s come- and he always wants more.

Harry pulls away, just to inaudibly whisper over his lips breathlessly, “di’you really just do that?”

Louis laughs, kissing Harry again gently. “Yup. Now budge over.”

He ignores his own hard-on that is in his constricting jeans, and slides up next to Harry, pushing the blanket to the ground because it’s too hot for it now.

“Oh my god,” Harry breathes heavily.

Louis laughs, “Does it really get you going that much?”

Harry nods, “Yeah. Yes.”

Louis smiles, happy to see his baby so pleased, even happier that Harry can think of this moment instead of the ones years ago. He feels so incoherent, if anything though, like nothing he thinks is clear. It’s all Harry and how proud he is.

“I was very like,” Harry slurs in a low whisper, “outgoing when I was younger. I think- being shut away and stuff- yeah,” Harry shrugs lightly, still shaking slightly.

Louis just nods, blinking in the post-orgasm way Harry looks, and smells, and talks. God, he really is out of it. Louis definitely wants to do this again, and if the hard cock that is still in his jeans isn’t proof enough, he doesn’t know what is.

(But more importantly, Louis has seen and is seeing Harry recover. He is watching him become new in-between all the small and big moments they share. Louis feels honoured, he really does, because nothing feels better than the squeeze in his heart when he realises that someday Harry’s life won’t be constantly haunted by the thought of _him_.)

Harry smiles lazily at Louis, draping his arm over Louis’ hip and slipping his hand under Louis’ jeans and pants. “Love you so much,” he whispers, hand slipping further down into Louis’ jeans and pants to his bum, where he lazily massages the soft skin in his palm.

Louis mewls quietly at the touch, leaning his against Harry’s and pushing his bum out into the touch. He tilts his head slightly so his lips can graze Harry’s, and he stays there, letting his soft breaths intermingle with Harry’s. “I love you too, Harry.”

Harry just slightly puckers his lips and kisses the side of Louis’ mouth.

Louis smiles, reaching his hand up to place on the side of Harry’s neck, his thumb gently stroking over the bottom of the boy's jaw. “I really am so proud of you, Harry,” Louis whispers, feeling Harry’s eyelashes shiver against his cheek, “so, so unbelievably proud.”

*

They arrive at the beach-side hotel sometime around 10:00 at night due to the over amount of bathroom and snack stops, ("Niall, you literally just used the restroom." "But I got a couple sooodaaass after I weeent." "Well that's your problem, can't you just hold it?" "Liiiiaaamm." "Fine, we'll pull over." And what do you know, when Niall comes back from using the store's bathroom, he has another bottle of soda with him. Thus, the cycle.)

Louis flutters his eyes open tiredly, a small yawn falling from his lips. Harry is leaning over him, shaking him lightly with a gentle smile. “C’mon, wake up love.”

Louis blinks, and he hears Niall grunting something about “just shove him onto the floor.” He is thankful Harry doesn't do that, just holds him tighter and nuzzles his nose into his neck with quiet laughs. “We’re at the hotel now, c’mon.”

They all request rooms on the same floor and pay the tab with stifled yawns. Liam is tucked into Zayn's side, yawning tiredly into his neck, his eyelids drooping. Zayn kisses the side of his head, carrying their bags along easily by himself. Louis can't help but to smile watching them. There is just a surreal feeling of security watching your best mates settle down with the people they love.

Harry and Louis are the lucky ones that get the room facing the ocean, complete with their very own balcony that overhangs the building with two folded up lounge chairs. They lay their bags against the wall with a small thump, taking the room in with long, heavy sighs. It’s not fancy or anything, because they are uni students and they can’t afford anything too ridiculous. But the walls are painted a comforting light blue, frames of nautical themed things hanging on the walls. There is one bed, a deep red duvet covering it to contrast the blue hues in the room. They have a small TV, closet, and bathroom. Louis thinks it’s the smell of the room is what makes it feel so exciting yet comforting, because it’s not home, but it’s still safe. Maybe it isn’t the smell, maybe it’s just the hotel in general. The way you get to walk in a public place barefoot, and all your necessities are in one room, and the bed is different, and everything is different. It’s just a nice change in pace, perhaps.

After Harry digs through one of his bags, he flashes Louis a small smile and walks into the loo, shutting the door behind him. Louis lets out a huff of a laugh, and let’s himself walk to the sliding glass window. He pulls the curtains the rest of the way open, and quietly slides the door open.

The first thing that hits him is a gentle breeze carrying the salty thinness of the ocean waves. He does not shiver, only grips the bar to the balcony, staring over as the waves crash against the shore. The ocean looks black and endless, a whirling amount of nothing and everything; the waves of it simply the rhythmically set heartbeat of the earth, pounding, pounding, alive. He breathes in the freshness of it, the liveliness that comes with going to the beach for the first time in what seems like forever. The negative ions that float like nothing in the air creates a gentle positiveness that he wants to pocket forever.

He hears the bathroom door open, and then the distinguishable sound of Harry's feet padding towards him. Soon enough, he feels the added warmth of Harry beside him. It envelops him in a sweet drizzle of cherry blossoms and vanilla, that belong nowhere near the raw, ocean wind. Louis loves it.

He turns to Harry, before his breath is getting knocked out of him.

Elliptical patterns cover Harry's body in the pale moonlight, his body incandescent against the blackness of the life around them. He is wearing the gown. The lovely nightie for the very first time. It fuses with the warm colour of Harry's skin in a gentle nonchalantly way that makes Louis suck down his own tongue. His collarbones are prominent in the moonlight, dips shadowed heavenly. It hangs loosely off his shoulders, lace delicate, and it flows down his body in an opulent cataract of softness. The hem falls above his knees- knees that are naturally pointed inwardly. Each of his toenails are painted a different colour because Harry didn't know what colour he wanted, so Louis just said fuck it and did them all differently. He looks beautiful. Such a natural beautiful with the way the fabric tides his body into such a young, velvety look, that graces Louis’ heart with an extra beat.

“Hi,” Harry whispers.

There is something new, something soft in the way he says it.

“Hi,” Louis says back. Nothing else can tear his eyes from Harry. Nothing is as beautiful. Louis just- he feels like a future of possibilities was opened up when Harry told him he was at least talking to a professional. It’s the kind of leap that shows Louis that not only does Harry care about himself getting better, but he also cares about Louis, and their relationship. It’s just overwhelming, and Louis never wants it to stop.

“Thank you for loving me."

Louis' eyes tear up as he whispers, "Thank you for letting me love you."

*

They all eventually wake up to the sound of seagulls yelping outside and waves crashing against the shore of the beach.

Zayn is up first, sketching different visuals of the ocean. They got a room at the end of the hall, and there is a small window that gives access to the sight of the edge of the beach. He sketches the window frame of possibility though. Into squares, triangles, a kaleidoscope of waves creating humble-galaxies.

Liam, nearly an hour later, blinks away his sleepiness to see his boyfriend sitting in the chair beside the window in only his pants. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat, trying to clear away the thick layer of sleep, and it catches Zayn’s attention. He sets down his pad and pencil, and crawls back into bed with Liam. He rubs the sleepiness from Liam's eyes with the pads of his thumbs, and kisses him with his coffee tainted lips, licking the caffeine into his mouth and coaxing him from his sleepy state.

They wake Louis and Harry up with a light knock to the door, telling them to get ready and meet them in the lobby for breakfast.

Louis yells back a shaky, “Kay,” before stretching out his limbs in bed, and then turning to see Harry still sleeping peacefully. His lips are full and bowed, and his lashes sprawl over his cheekbones elegantly. He carefully wraps an arm around Harry and pulls him closer, biting his lip at the softness of the gown that protects his body. He kisses his lips, and cheeks, and jaw, until Harry is stirring awake with a squeak of a yawn.

Louis presses a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips, mumbling, “S’time to wake up, love.”

Liam and Zayn pound on Niall's door, knowing he is a heavy sleeper, and then on their walk down to the lobby, they call his number repeatedly in hopes he’ll wake soon. Not too much longer, Louis and Harry greet them with happy good mornings.

They eat a quick breakfast, sun already shining in the early-morning air. Louis rubs Harry's thigh under the table, leaning over and pouting into his neck, “I need strawberry milk.”

Harry smiles, kissing Louis’ head, “Me too.”

“How do you guys drink so much of that stuff and not get fat? Like jesus Lou, I think you've lost weight,” Zayn wipes his mouth with his serviette, pushing away his plate with a few pieces of pancakes and syrup pushed to the side.

Louis rolls his eyes, slipping his arms between Harry's back, and the aft of the chair to pull him closer, “Believe it or not, I do eat healthily.”

Zayn laughs, “You hate healthy food.”

“Well Harry here is a lovely cook. He can make even asparagus taste good.”

*

“Please, Harry, pleeeeeease.”

“You're crazy, Lou. Absolutely bonkers!”

Louis laughs maniacally, throwing his hands in the air and bringing bits of the ocean with him as he trudges through the small waves.

“Crazy, I tell you!” Harry yells again from the safety of the beach. His toes curl in the sand, and his hands are shoved into his pockets. He is wearing the cotton shirt from the boutique, and grins widely, shaking his head at his ridiculous boyfriend.

“Crazy for you!” Louis shouts back, grin so big it looks like his face is splitting in two. He is in the same white cotton shirt, shorts rolled up high on his thighs so he can venture further into the sea water.

“That's an awful line!” Harry shakes his head disappointingly, but his smile tells Louis otherwise. He knows all of his awful lines work on Harry, every last one of them.

Up the beach more, near the exit to the hotel, Liam and Zayn are building a sand castle with some cheap pails and shovels a vender sold down the coast. They are giggling and laughing, and Liam keeps leaning over to peck Zayn, who is doing most of the sculpting. Louis has to admit, it is one of the most impressive sand castles he has ever seen.

“Hey, why didn't you guys wake me up?” Niall yells from the wooden beach steps, making his way down. His hands are thrown in the air and he is wearing the same thing from yesterday. Right before he reaches the bottom, he finds himself getting bombed and seagull poop drops down his shirt. He shrieks like a baby as he stumbles, flailing his shirt from his skin and trying to rip it off his head, stumbling over Liam and Zayn's sand castle that is a few steps away.

Harry is bent over laughing, tears in his eyes as Louis sneaks up behind him. He grabs him by the waist, and despite their height differences, Louis carries a kicking and screaming Harry into the ocean water with him, tripping and landing on him in the salty water.

Harry breathes heavily, eyes shining and lips spread in a wide, wet smile as Louis stares from on top of him, eyes wide, and smile even wider.

“Louis Tomlinson!” Harry yells playfully, “you're going to pay for that!”

Louis stumbles up fast, running into the waves, jumping over them whilst Harry chases behind him, yelling incoherent nothings of revenge.

Liam and Zayn, but mostly Liam, are scolding Niall for ruining their sand castle as Zayn tries to remake it again with a laugh and a shrug.

Niall just keeps screaming at them, “A bird _pooped_ on me!”

“And how does that give you the right to destroy our masterpiece?”

Harry has Louis down in the ocean and they’re rolling around, grabbing at each other and giggling almost violently as salty water rushes over their skin, tasting it every time they open their mouths. Harry’s hair is sopping and straight, clinging to his face in thick clumps, some of them so long they run down to the tops of Harry’s shoulders.

It isn't until they are mostly ashore with just the tips of the waves crashing to their stomachs that Louis finally manages to pin Harry into the wet sand, both of them breathing heavily.

Louis drops where he is holding Harry's wrists down,

(a lightness in his chest when he notices Harry doesn't flinch.)

and he cheekily swipes his thumbs over Harry's nipples, hard and red through the thin, white fabric. “You need to keep your boobs covered, Styles. This isn't a nudist beach.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, and Louis knows this look, knows it so well. “Guess you’ll have to get me a bikini then, huh?”

Louis whimpers above him, biting into the pillow of his lip as Harry guffaws, shoving Louis off in his weak state and running, leaving him on the wet shore to pout with the image of Harry in a bikini.

Niall and Liam are still arguing over whether or not a bird pooping on you is a valid reason to destroy a castle. (“What if there were living creatures inside?” “It was a sand castle!” “You're going to make an awful lawyer!”)

Zayn already has the castle rebuilt, and then some.

 

*

They drink smoothies through one cup with two straws, watching Niall flirt with the smoothie vendor.

“Do you think Niall realises the guy is gay?” Liam asks, genuinely worried as Zayn brings their smoothie closer to get a sip.

“I don't know,” Louis sips through his own straw, and plays around with Harry's, “but the two of them would make a pretty good couple.”

Harry nods his head in agreement, watching as Niall throws his head back laughing.

“Does Niall know he’s flirting back?” Liam asks, looking to Zayn who just shrugs.

“Maybe the gay finally got to him,” Louis replies, watching as Niall takes a napkin from the guy and starts walking to them.

“That guy is so friendly, gave me a free smoothie!” Niall is smiling wide as he sits in the high-chaired wooden seat, “I got his number. Said we should hang out sometime.”

Louis snorts into his smoothie and Harry slaps his knee.

Niall smiles, looking over to the guy who winks at him and turns away, “Aw he just winked, you see that?” Niall grins, winking back before sipping his smoothie.

“Niall?” Liam starts, “you do realise he’s gay right?”

“So are the bunch of you.” Niall shrugs.

“And he was flirting with you.” Liam adds.

Niall shrugs again.

“And it really looked like you were flirting back.”

Niall goes pink, mouth opened around his straw where he was about to take another drink.

“It didn't look like you were just flirting back, looked like you wanted to bum him right there,” Louis pipes in, making Zayn choke on his smoothie.

Liam promptly slaps him, “Don't get backwash in our smoothie.”

“You've licked my arse and you are worried about my backwash?” Zayn asks amused. Liam rolls his eyes, taking Zayn's straw from him.

Niall turns completely red, pushing his own smoothie away from him.

“Yeah, you proper lead him on,” Liam replies, seeing the struggle on Niall's face

Niall lets out a loud groan in reply, “Well we can still be friends, can’t we?” he drags it out like a little kid, shoulders slumped and a pout on his lips.

“Of course, ju-” Harry starts,

“-st make sure to let him know you don't like cock.” Louis finishes, and Harry glares at him playfully.

“You too are so cute,” Niall says, sipping his smoothie again, “it’s disgusting.”

*

They go back to the hotel early to get dressed for a fancy dinner.

Niall’s surprisingly the first one done getting ready, already showered and spiffed up his hair, looking proper handsome. He is in nice, fitting denims, a white t-shirt, and a thin, black coat; hair the crown jewel, perfect for lasting the night as he pushes away the half empty can of hairspray.

Liam and Zayn surprisingly take the longest. They decided to take a shower together, thinking it would ‘save time.’ Save time ending with Zayn on his knees and loud moans echoing on the walls of the bathroom.

When the two of them stumble out into their hotel room with just their pants on, they scream and jump back, before realising it’s just Niall sitting on their bed and flipping mindlessly through their channels.

He looks over to them lazy after locking his phone, eyebrows furrowing, “Why is Zayn in lady knickers?”

Meanwhile, Harry is slipping up his own pair of knickers. They are cheekies of red lace, a black heart of see-through sheer on the back. When Louis strolls out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, he taps Harry's bum lightly, purring a soft, “Sexy Styles tonight, are we?”

He sits on the bed and grabs Harry's waist, a sweet, intoxicating scent of honeysuckle fumes from the hotel body wash drowns his nose, and he kisses Harry's bare tummy. He went to use some of the same body wash as well, but it was completely gone. He isn't sad, no, he knows Harry is trying. That's what matters.

Harry smirks, turning around and shaking his bum in Louis’ face. In his head, he is dancing to Partition by Beyonce, shaking his hips to the beat that's so clear in his mind. Louis is moaning behind him, palming himself through the slip in the towel. That's when Harry smirks again, pulling his jeans up the rest of the way and buttoning them up with a smack to his own arse.

“Haaaarrrrryyyy,” Louis whines, falling back against the bed.

When they all meet in the hallway, Niall is texting on his phone, glancing up to Harry and Louis and muttering a, “Did’ya know Zayn wears lady knickers?”

*

They slide into the round booth of a fancy restaurant. The seats are leather over plush, the lights are dim, and they are all wearing too-washed jeans and wrinkly tops.

Louis can feel Harry's knee bouncing beside his, so he places his hand over it and rubs soothing circles into the fabric of his jeans. “How about tomorrow,” he starts once he has leaned into Harry, “we go get a big bottle of body wash and strawberry milk?”

Harry sighs, looking to Louis relieved, “You won’t be upset? Because- like-” he cuts himself off and Louis leans in, kissing the silky skin below his jaw.

“No, never. Hotels never give enough, and I kinda wanna scrub the ocean off, you know?” Louis smiles into Harry's curls, “And as far as the strawberry milk goes, you've got me hooked.”

(Niall orders a clam chowder bread bowl, Zayn a salmon salad and Liam a lobster, whilst Harry and Louis share a platter of sushi.)

They are all making small chat, waiting for their food to arrive with rumbling tummies. It was either a mediumly expensive dinner for the nights they stay, or one expensive one and the rest all cheap fast food. They chose the latter.

Liam keeps picking at the bowl of peanuts on the table,- which is odd enough, because peanut-buckets usually belong on roadhouse tables- cracking them open and handing them to Zayn, who slips them through his lips. Louis is flicking his cracked shells at Niall, who only flicks his hair in return, and continues to text on his phone.

“Oi, Ni! Who you talking to over there?” Liam finally asks, seeing Louis’ frustration at Niall's lack of response to his pestering ways, “is it that one coloured-haired chick?” he raises an eyebrow suggestively as he continues to open up peanuts for Zayn.

“Who, Perrie?” Niall says, “she’s just my hair-dresser.”

“Wait, _what_?” Zayn starts, “you guys are always going out together.”

Niall shakes his head with wide eyes and a straight mouth, and Harry laughs, because he is very familiar with the relationship Niall and Perrie share.

“Well yeah,” he drags out like it's common sense, “I help her pick out new clothes. There is a reason she is so hot, and that’s me.”

Louis sinks in his seat. “Jesus Christ,” he utters with his eyes closed.

Niall's phone goes off again and he quickly picks it up, a small smile spreading across his face.

“Okay, who are you texting then?” Harry asks, because Niall tells him and the girls all about the bird’s he finds pretty. It’s a game really. (“What about her, Ni? She looks proper fit.” “Jesy, you know how strongly I fear girls who can walk that fast in heels.” “She’s quite pretty.” “Stop looking at girls who remind you of your twat boyfriend, Harold.” “Ooo, look at that one.” “Wher- Peerrriieee we’re looking for possible wives not dogs! Stop be- oh my god, Perrie! I want one!”)

“Yeah, you got a secret lover we don't know about?” Liam adds.

Niall presses ‘send’ with a smirk, looking up and mumbling, “huh?”

“That's it Niall, who is it that's stealing away all your attention?” Zayn pries teasingly, stealing away Niall's phone and passing it to Liam who is in the middle of the round booth.

“Zayn,” Niall glares, “It’s just Mi, now give me my phone back.”

“Mi?” Louis asks, glancing to Harry who shrugs his shoulders.

“Mi, Milo. You know, the guy from earlier. Now give me my phone back,” he says it as if it is no big deal.

Oh, but it is.

Zayn ‘Oh’s,’ sliding the phone to him.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Footie,” Niall shrugs, taking a peanut and cracking it open, flicking the shell at Louis who huffs, turning into Harry's shoulder.

“Oh god, Ni,” Liam balks, “that is not your way of coming off as straight, is it?”

“What, no!” Niall says in defence, “he’s the one who started talking about it first!”

“Who texted who first?” Harry questioned with a small smile.

“I did.”

“Well what did you say? Git.” Louis mutters.

“Uh, hello? Like normal people?” he states obviously.

“Well what did he say back?”

“I don't know, something like, ‘Hi, Ni!’”

“He gave you a nickname that fast?” Zayn laughs.

Niall laughs too, surprisingly, “Yeah we both decided that we should call ourselves Minnie. Get it? Mi, Ni. Cool innit?”

They all groan loudly, “Niall.”

“What?” he says in defence again.

“You don't need to lead him on like that!” Liam says, again.

“I groaned because that was the least creative nicknaming,” Louis chimes in.

Niall ignores Louis, “I'm not going to treat him any differently just cause he’s gay,” and finishes with a frustrated sigh.

Liam sighs, nodding, “Yeah, you're right. I guess you shouldn’t.”

Niall mutters a ‘thank you’ as the food arrives.

“Oh Zayn!” Louis says, wiping his mouth after eating some of the sushi, that turned out to be quite fantastic, “My mum and them are going to be able to make it to the Art Showing.”

“Seriously?” Zayn said with wide eyes, “That's amazing! I’m so happy they can make it down. It’s gon’ be all of us together again.”

Louis smiles, “Yeah, she says she misses you. Plus Lottie was nagging her, so.”

“Oh god,” Liam starts, “does she know about us?”

Louis smirks, “Of course not.”

Zayn groans, “How does she still like me?”

“Well, Zaynie boy,” Louis starts, “For one, you practically lived at my house. Two, have you looked in the mirror? Three, she walked in on you wanking once in my bed, mind you. Then the next morning you told her she looked pretty, for godsake,” Louis shakes his head, “Oh, and let’s not forget about the time you kissed her.”

“Oh my god, you kissed Lottie?” Liam and Niall ask at the same time.

“That was an accident!” Zayn says incredulously.

“You jumped out of the car as we were leaving for uni!”

“Well, it would have broken her heart if I would have just left and never said goodbye.”

“That doesn't mean you kiss her,” Niall adds, picking at his bread bowl.

“I went to kiss her cheek and she turned her face!”

“Yeah, yeah, bad boy. That's what they always say,” Louis mutters, smirking at Zayn who has a high blush.

He huffs annoyedly, turning into Liam, who just laughs and wraps his arm around him.

“Can my mum come too, Zi?” Niall coos finally, just for the hell of it. Of course they’re going either way, they were the first ones to make reservations.

“No.”

Harry laughs into his napkin, choking on his sushi as Niall pouts.

“Harry's mum can come, though,” Zayn says after a moment, glaring at Niall who pretends to cry into his bowl of chowder.

Harry smiles kindly, but shakes his head, “Thanks for the offer, but I don't think she can make it.”

Liam frowns, “That's too bad, all of our families were going to get together afterwards for dinner. We did it last year too.”

“‘cept Nialls not invited this year,” Zayn adds in mock mood, “his mummy can come, though.”

Louis frowns too, though. Wrapping his hand around Harry's. He squeezes it lightly, bringing his hand to his mouth and kissing his palm. He knows this is what is hurting the most, what increases the antigens of his memory. Harry’s relationship with his mum is quite strong, despite a lot of the things he keeps from her.

“Does she just not live close enough?” Niall asks. There is a bit of clam chowder on his shirt, and Harry chooses to stare at it instead of anywhere else. Harry is closest with Niall, behind Louis, of course, but there’s still a lot Harry doesn’t tell him and the girls.

“No it’s just-” he cuts off,

“-She isn't-” Louis picks up for him, not exactly sure what is going on in his boyfriend's head at the moment.

“-Like I haven't seen her-”

“-For a few years-” Louis says,

“-since... then.” Harry changes it.

The dissonance of the room resolves and suddenly they all understand. Harry bites his lip, looking down to pick at his almond and rose fingernails. Louis tries to get him to stop by taking his hand in his own, but Harry quickly pulls away from the touch.

And... It hurts. It hurts a lot.

It feels like the only thing separating them are the gaps of the blades of a ceiling fan. But it's spinning, god, it’s spinning so fast and the gaps never get smaller. It’s an infinite, dizzy, cycle of trying to catch up to something that's going the same speed. You can yell to them, see them, but you can never get close enough to fully envelop them into the love they deserve.

Louis tries to realise Harry doesn't need to constantly be babied, he tries to realise that sometimes he needs distance. But it’s so hard when he knows he could be telling him it’s okay, it’s _okay_.

It’s just always okay, and that's the problem.

Louis scoots away a bit, folding his hands in his lap. He doesn't allow himself to look at Harry, and he feels selfish almost, because this isn't about him, but at the same time it is. Because it’s about Harry.

“Mate, you need your mum in your life,” Liam says softly, rubbing circles over Harry's back. He doesn't pull away from him, and Louis wants to cry. He’s jealous. He’s really jealous because he wants to be the one comforting Harry.

“She is in my life. We talk on the phone all the time.” Harry says back, wringing his fingers nervously in his lap.

“Yeah, but you need mum hugs, and mum kisses, and mum sappiness. You gotta have her in your life physically, y’know?” Zayn says, frowning as he watches Harry's pained face.

“I just- I can't-”

Liam pulls him into a tight hug, and he doesn't pull away. And suddenly Louis feels so toxic. He doesn't get why Harry did that to him. Why does he only need space from him?

Niall asks where she lives, and Harry tells him. Louis listens as all the boys tell Harry they can take him, they’ll all go, and everything will be okay and safe. Yeah, Louis loves how supportive his mates are being, it means the world to him. He just wishes he could be a part of it. He wants to comfort Harry. He is the one who has been doing it all this time, and suddenly it feels like maybe he isn't good enough for Harry. Maybe he needs more- he just- yeah, Harry does need all the support he can get, but that doesn’t mean he has to push the one that has been there for him the entire time away. Louis doesn’t want Harry to push him away.

It’s just- it’s killing him. It’s killing him because he knows he is just overlooking something so small. But with Harry, nothing is small.

“We can all paint our nails and everything too!” Niall chirps in, which makes Harry smile, dimples and all. Louis really loves Niall, he does. He loves him so much he sort of wants to curl around him right now.

Soon enough, they're walking back to the hotel. It’s quiet, all except Niall's whistling and the clear sound of ocean waves. Louis chooses to stand beside the cheerful Niall, and Harry walks a bit ahead. Louis feels the tension between them. It’s thick, and all he wants to do is cut it away, because this isn't them.

Louis skips his and Harry’s hotel door when Harry opens it, still chatting with Niall over elevators and what corner should be the bathroom corner in case of emergency. He pretends he doesn't feel Harry watching him when he walks into Niall's room.

“I'm just saying, having it be by the door is actually a goo-” his phone is going off for the zillionth time, and Louis watches as Niall stops his sentence to answer the message.

“Is it Milooo,” Louis drags out.

“Yeah. S’cool guy, he is. Says he’ll teach me how to ride a surfboard.”

“Not the only thing he’ll teach you how to ride,” Louis mumbles, laying on Niall's bed.

“What’s with all of you being upset I’m talking to a gay guy?” Niall huffs, kicking his shoes off and lying beside Louis.

“You're just too nice for your own good, Niall. It was clear as daylight that he immediately had a thing for you,” Louis clicks his tongue, “and you were coming off pretty gay yourself there, mate.”

“S’what I get for hanging out with you homos.”

Louis laughs lazily, rubbing his tummy. “How come you never seem interested in anyone, Ni? You're funny and fit; it can’t be that hard to pick someone up.”

Louis doesn't look at him, but he can feel Niall's shrug shake the bed. “Always been that way.”

“What do’ya mean?” Louis groans, glancing to him. He wants to talk about something completely different from his life.

“I've never really liked anyone.”

Louis snorts, “Bullshit.”

“M’serious. I mean, sure, I find plenty of people fit, and it’s got nothing to do with not being able to toss it. Just never got to know someone that I liked in that way.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup.”

“You're weird,” Louis finalises, before, “would you ever date a dude?”

Niall shrugs again, “I don't know. I tried to watch gay porn once, but it freaked me out.”

“Niall, your willy is supposed to get hard,” Louis coos, reaching over and stroking the blonde boy's hair like a mother hen.

“Toss off, perv.” Niall laughs, pushing Louis away.

“You want to see my dick now? Niall, you know I have a boyfriend.”

Niall laughs harder, eyes close and mouth wide open as his stomach shakes.

Louis 'tsks,' smiling.

“Speaking of boyfriend,” Niall starts, still grinning, “shouldn't you be getting back to your boy?”

Louis sighs, not letting the sadness of what happened earlier show as he nods his head. “Yeah, s’pose I should,” Louis ignores the tumbling in his stomach, “how come you never told me you’ve been over?”

Niall sighs, “Harry told us not to.”

Louis blinks, staring up at the ceiling.

“I didn’t wanna betray his trust, y’know? He told us you knew and everything, and that it was all okay. He just- he told us not to tell you, and none of us questioned it.”

Louis nods, biting his lip. “How come you seemed so surprised when I told you, then?”

Niall shrugs again. His phone goes off, but he ignores it. “I was surprised. All Harry told us was that he was in a bit of an abusive relationship.”

Louis closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. “What do you guys do then?” he asks simply, “when you're like, hanging out.”

Niall laughs a bit, “Haven’t had a lot of free time to get together for a long while, but we’ve been sneaking together and watching Top Gear episodes. Perrie will bring her laptop down to the Library on her days off and we’ll watch it until Jes and Harry get off.”

“Oh.”

Niall snorts, “You probably thought we all just sit around and paint our nails, huh? Gossip about hot celebrities?”

Louis rolls his eyes, rolling over onto his side to stare at Niall, “You can’t blame me for assuming that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall makes a face that Louis can’t distinguish, “we actually just turn into unmannered monsters. We have burping compo’s, and we stuff ourselves with greasy foods. Perrie’s got a PS3 and an Xbox360. She bought them for her ex, but then caught him cheating. S’we try to go there as much as possible.”

Louis pouts, “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It is, you should let Harry out of your sight more often.”

Louis sighs, falling against the pillows. “I knooow,” he pouts, “s’just hard.”

Niall smiles sympathetically, “Hey mate, we all got his back, okay? Perrie and Jes adore him, we all do,” Niall pats Louis’ head likes a fucking dog, “he’s safe with us.”

Louis can’t deny the swelling in his heart hearing that. He tilts his head, smiling thankfully. “Thanks Ni,” he says softly.

Niall rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll try to remember that tomorrow when we’re nagging each other.”

Louis snorts, slapping Niall’s side, “You’re stupid,” he defends weakly, before, “so who’s Perrie? ‘ve met Jesy.”

“Perrie is sorta like Harry, like, she’s really quirky like ‘im. She likes to dye her hair different colours, cos, y’know, hairdresser ‘n all,” Niall sighs, “she’s really lovely, s’don’t worry about her.”

Louis hums out a response.

“Yeah, I think-” Niall cuts himself off, looking to Louis seriously, “I think I like her, y’know? Like, like-like.”

Louis snorts into the pillow, trying to suffocate his laughter, and only laughing harder when Niall slaps him.

“Kay, okay. I’m sorry,” Louis laughs out breathlessly, “so why don’t you ask her out?”

“She isn’t s’pose to have relationships with customers.”

Louis can’t help it, he really can’t. He just bursts into laughter, eyes closed, and mouth wide open as he practically chokes on his laughs. Niall pouts, and the next thing Louis knows, is he is being shoved off the bed and it only makes him laugh harder.

“Toss off, I just told you I liked someone ‘nd you’re sitting there laughing your arse off.”

“‘m-’m-” Louis tries to apologise but he can’t stop laughing, “‘m sorry, but fuck,” Louis takes in a deep breath, “why didn’t you just say so?”

From the floor Louis can hear Niall fall back against the bed, “Liking people is confusing. Like, I wanna buy her all those expensive lipsticks she likes, and shove potato chips down her shirt, but I also wanna fuck her.”

Louis snorts, “Mate, I think you just summed up love in the least romantic way possible.”

There is a shuffling noise, and then Niall is leaning over the side of the bed to stare at Louis, “Love?”

Louis is actually genuinely worried for his mate, because Niall genuinely looks worried about the word love. “Ni, it’s not like that, you tit. I think you just have one of those awful hormonal teenage boy crushes,” he pauses, muttering under his breath, “which will later lead to love.”

Niall makes a groaning noise that sounds somewhat like confusion and fear. “Louis, I don’t know how to like people. I just-”

“Don’t know how to like people? Niall, you literally love every person you meet. You're just overthinking this, jesus. If you hang out as much as Zayn made it seem she must like something about you. I mean, has she been to your flat?”

Niall perks up at that, “Yeah! We have sleepovers all the time!”

Louis covers his face with his hands, “Has she ever drank with you?”

“She brings the beer half the time.”

“How does she eat with you?”

“What do you m-”

“Does she say she’s full after one slice of pizza or-”

“No! We’ve had pizza eating contests!”

“Jesus Christ, Niall,” Louis mutters, “either you’re literally the definition of the friendzone, she thinks you're gay, or she really, really likes you, and is just comfortable with you.”

Niall groans again, “God, you’ve ruined my life. I hate you, get out.”

Louis rolls his eyes, sitting up, “You're acting like me during my big, gay moment, jesus.”

“This is a big gay moment for me!” Niall exclaims, “Except less gay!”

“I'm not even leaving because you want me too, I'm leaving because I want to.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“Fuck you.”

“I thought you liked Perrie?”

Niall groans, shoving his face into a pillow. Louis just snorts, standing up and patting his back.

“Good luck with your big gay moment, mate,”

“Screw you,” Niall mumbles into the pillow.

“Hey,” Louis says in defence, “I approved of smoothie shop boy.”

Niall’s head snapped up, as he scrambles for his phone. “Oh shit, I forgot to text him back.”

Louis snorts again, “Alright Ni, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He walks toward the door, looking back to see Niall engrossed in his phone. He rolls his eyes, opening the door and stepping out. He doesn’t let the mood of having to face Harry ruin the nice talk he had with Niall, at least not yet. He pulls out his phone, texting Niall: in case u didn’t notice i left and stole the TV remote on the way out. xx

Louis hears Niall crack out laughing a few moments after sending the text. So he smiles triumphantly, letting himself feel good for a moment longer.

Before he gets to his and Harry’s room, he realises he doesn't have the other key. He feels his lungs constrict around each breath as he is forced to knock. He isn't ready to see Harry, though. It’s not because he’s mad at him, it’s just that he’s scared, and hurt, and Harry’s never made him feel like that before, at least not in a way that directly involves himself.

And it’s just- he knows he is being a big baby over this. It just genuinely hurts and Louis doesn't know how to handle his own hurting, he only knows how to handle others.

As soon as the door opens though, Harry is in Louis’ arms, bawling loud and ugly, with snot running down his face along with tears. He’s shaking- fucking _trembling_ \- and Louis just- he slowly wraps his arms around Harry and pulls him close, eyebrows furrowing because he is so fucking torn and confused right now.

“I thought you weren't going to come back,” Harry sniffles into his neck, “I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

The gentle vulnerability that is Harry and everything he has gone through is prominent as he digs his nails into Louis’ back, seeking comfort and praise. He needs Louis, he knows he does. He knows he is more dependent than he thinks, or than what anyone thinks. He just knows that when he is with Louis, everything feels better. Like all the flowers that he forced to surround him were dead, until Louis touched them and they all came to life again.

There is a feeling that no one but Louis can give him. The feeling of being flourished, blooming in a warm, welcoming sun. Louis never treats him like he is less than the world, he knows he is, but when Louis looks at him, _god_ , when he looks at him with that look like, ' _yeah, you’re perfect. you’re the one_ ,' it makes his heart flutter and his blood race. Harry knows Louis didn't hang the stars in the sky for him, he never hung any stars at all, but Louis makes him feel like he did do that, and that he plucked Harry down from the sky to keep him because he was the brightest most beautiful star he had ever seen. See, his therapist, mum, or mates never make him feel like that. No one can make him feel brand new in the way Louis does.

“Harry, I wouldn't- I'm not leaving you,” Louis pulls away, making sure he is looking in Harry's eyes, “I love you, Harry. I'm not going anywhere.”

Harry sobs loudly, his face scrunching up, and he looks so miserable. Fuck, it hurts Louis, it hurts him so fucking much. His throat burns, and he knows under Harry's skin he is burning even more with emotions, and memories, and fucking things he can't deal with. Harry doesn't- Harry tries to not feel them, he tries to pretend that the itch is right on the first layer, and he can just scratch it away. But it’s not, god knows it’s not. It’s deep inside of him, and he tears at his skin trying to get it; then ignoring it, thinking it will just go away on its own. The itch never goes away.

“I feel like I'm too much for you,” Harry sobs, “you didn't ask for all of this to be in your life. I'm so sorry.”

“Harry-” Louis starts. And its-

“Just please don't leave me.” Harry begs.

Louis has never seen Harry like this. He’s- _god._

Harry is kissing Louis’ cheek, and his lips, and he is bawling his eyes out.  There is too much going on for him at one time. He feels unclean, and the boys, and talking about his mum, and he decides to go off with Niall, when he was clearly needed. Harry is feeling bad on the inside, and everything he depends on isn't with him. And the one thing that is, he is pushing away and then pulling back.

_Pushing away and then pulling back._

“He’s going to see me,” Harry rambles, “it’s not safe. He will know. Please don't leave me, Louis.”

He just keeps bawling out incoherent sentences about him, and safety, and how much he _needs_  Louis, and Louis is just- he is so overwhelmed. Nothing hurts him more than seeing Harry cry like _this_ , he can't describe the amount of feelings bubbling in his stomach, and lungs, and throat, and fucking _heart_. All he can do is wonder if this is what the earth feels when the sky is pouring down rain. Like it's fucking sinking. Drowning, drowning, and gasping for breath.

_“I was scared when you touched my hand, you were going to feel him instead of me.”_

_“I didn't want you to leave.”_

 

Harry isn’t- Harry hasn’t been scared that Louis is Mark. All the flinches, the pulling back, the sex, the yelling, recoiling, fear and the tears. It’s not because Harry is seeing Mark in Louis. It isn’t because he feels unsafe with him. Harry loves Louis, he does.

 

( _the apologising. the fear. the fucking apologising_.)

 

Harry isn’t scared that Louis will hurt him. Harry’s scared that he’ll hurt Louis.

Louis feels his chest heave with the alarming emotion of Harry trying to rip out the bruising hum of his name. He feels his veins shake and his bones dry to brittleness that snap under the heavy weight of loving someone who is scared of himself.

“Harry-H-”

He can’t even get out a sodding, ‘It’s okay,’ because Harry is clinging to him, and crying against his chapped lips. “M’sorry, m’sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Louis’ head swirls as he drags them to the sliding glass door, pulling it open and stepping them out onto the balcony. The ocean waves are crashing loudly onto shore, drowning out the noises of Harry choking on air. It’s dark out, colder too. The crisp, fresh air is good though.

“Harry, I-” he is trying to find something to say, something that will get it through to the boy. Not the usual ‘okay,’ no, there are thousands of words and there is always something better to say than ‘okay.’

Louis doesn’t want Harry to be scared. Not with him, not about him, not for him.

“Look at the ocean.” Louis doesn't mean for it to sound like a demand, but it does. “If you go out there, it-it will swallow you up,” Louis sniffles, “a-and it’s not gonna wait a sodding second to drown you. It’s not going to care about any fucking thing you've done or been through.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows, startled with gasped tears as Louis continues, softer, “I’m not the ocean, though.” Louis’ just- he isn't exactly sure what he is saying. “When you come to me, I will swallow you into my arms. I will care about every single thing you've been through, I - I care about every place he touched you, Harry. I'm not- I won't just- I’m not some vast, emotionless thing- a- a _prick_ , I'm not like that. I’m- I’m _huma_ n, Harry. I-”

It’s too much.

Louis sobs. He fucking sobs into Harry's shoulder. It’s a broken conversation fabricated out of tears and small, shallow breaths. Breaths. Breaths. Breathing.

It seems like everyone is having trouble breathing lately.

*

The cool ocean air freezes their hotel room, and when they wake up in the morning, they are tangled limb for limb under the duvet. Louis wakes up first. His eyes feel heavily sealed, and he lets out a loud groan, stirring Harry awake.

Then he remembers last night.

Harry is quickly untangling himself from Louis after a moment of stillness, rolling out of the bed and stumbling onto his feet.

“Harry,” Louis warns.

Harry is slipping his sweats on quickly, and Louis’ not in the mood. He just- he just crawls to the end of the bed and awkwardly tackles him to the hotel floor.

“Lou, get off of me,” Harry groans lifelessly.

“We are talking about this.”

“I don't want to.”

“We have too.”

“I don't have to do anything.”

“Stop being a _brat_ , Harry.”

“You're the one being a _brat,_ Louis. I don't want to talk about what happened, okay? Now get the fuck off me.”

“Why don't you want to talk about it?”

“I just don't.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing!”

“Oh, embarrassing? Is that what it is for you? Because it’s fucking heartbreak for me.”

Harry is writhing beneath Louis, who has him pinned to the ground. They are yelling, but they can’t be damned to give a shit.

“I told you I was too much for you!” Harry cries out, “You didn't ask for all this! I know, Louis!”

“What are you talking about, Harry? I’m pretty sure when I asked you to be my boyfriend, I was asking for all this. I knew about it all before, Harry. None of this changes the fact that I am in love with you!”

Harry closes his eyes, turning his head to the side of the floor, going pliant under Louis.

“I need to know what is going on in your head, Harry. I need to know how to help you.” Louis says desperately, brushing Harry's curls back best he can, “Why are you shaking your head, love?”

“Because I don't know what's going on half of the time.” Harry sobs, “Sometimes things just- just _happen_ , Lou. I just- no one has loved me like you have. And- and I get insecure, and scared.”

“Why do you get insecure and scared?” Louis asks, lowering his face so he can trail gentle kisses over his jaw.

“Because I think you're going to realise I am more trouble to your life than good,” Harry whispers through his tears, “and that one day you're just going to leave me.”

Louis sucks kisses into the skin on Harry's neck, calming Harry down to coax the answers from him, “So what were you feeling last night?” He murmurs it against his skin, basking in the shiver that goes through Harry’s body.

“Jealous, and scared, a-and dirty.”

It’s like the words are engraved into his brain. Like he has been thinking about them since then and nothing else. Like they’re practised.

Louis brings his hands up and tangles his fingers in Harry's curls, kissing back over his jaw and to his throat, “Why were you jealous?”

“Because I didn't get to know you growing up,” Harry leans his head back, supple under Louis’ touch, “and I was scared because I felt dirty. I just started feeling really dirty, and gross. Because I didn't know you, and I don't know your family, and I don't know how to be normal.”

Louis kisses up to Harry's naked lips, shaping his gently against them.

“I was jealous that you let Liam touch you,” Louis murmurs against Harry's lips in return for what Harry told him, “and I thought I wasn't enough for you, Harry.”

“Louis, I'm s-”

“Harry, you don't need to apologise,” Louis kisses him again, “it isn't your fault. None of this is your fault.”

Harry clenches his eyes closed, biting at his lip as he shakes his head. “I just don't know what to do,” he whispers.

Louis’ heart breaks as he swipes Harry's fringe away again, pulling up to look at Harry more properly. “You're doing what you can, Harry. Look at everything you've done already. Look how far you've come. Just-just tell your therapist, okay?” Louis kisses Harry's nose as Harry nods. “And please, tell me, Harry. I'm not leaving you. I'm with you for the long run. I-I want you, all of you, okay?”

Harry nods silently, tears slipping down his cheeks in tangible forms of shame. He does not meet Louis’ eyes. Louis tips his chin up, kissing him again, “Now, how about just you and me go into town and find some strawberry milk and body wash, yeah? We can scrub each other clean?”

“Yeah,” Harry sniffles, “yeah, that sounds really nice.”

*

It feels like all the disparity of earlier was lifted from their lungs, and now instead of breathing air, they are breathing each other; through their palms against each other’s skin, the giggles filtering from their lips into each other’s necks, _god_ , they could spend hours doused in each other’s radiance. They could waste years away wrapped around each other, whispering little things and never running out of words to say to each other, things to breathe against each other’s skin.

8:00 a.m. They found a carton of strawberry milk at a little 24/7 market, along with a disgustingly cheap looking body wash. It just says ‘original scent’ on a white and blue bottle, the cream smelling no better than toilet paper. Louis wants to get something better, but Harry is already in line and paying for the crap stuff, so instead, he sighs, and runs his hand down Harry's arm just because.

Right now, they are sitting on a wooden bench on a sandy pathway that leads down to the beach. Despite it being summer, the clouds are still rolling in because it is still relatively early in the morning. The air around them feels grey, the skyline is a mixture of dust and dark, and the water looks cold and terrifying. They pass the carton back and forth between each other, taking slow sips of the strawberry milk that they've both grown so used to, and letting the crisp breeze ruffle their hair.

There is a feeling of freedom here. The air is different- fresh; the trees, ground, shops- all offbeat to their home now. The thing is, no one knows who they are here. It’s just them, next to each other, being whoever they want. It feels like a momentary new beginning.

(Whilst they sit there, they both think the same thing: _days have passed and I have missed them_.

The breathlessness of the ocean and wisps of air is the reminder that this is their existence. They are not wasting time. They are not bound by a linear definition of progression. They are alive.)

Louis leans over, resting his head on Harrys shoulder and tangling their fingers together. The ocean waves turn from dark to white as they crash against the shore in a raw rasp. “Harry?” he murmurs quietly, feeling the same rawness inside of him.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Harry squeezes Louis’ hand, “I love you too.”

*

They don't go back to the hotel, not yet.

They text the others and tell them they are going to eat lunch together. They spend their well-into-the-afternoon-time wandering mindlessly through the small beach city. There’s this wholeness that comes after being so vulnerable with each other; admitting to the gravity of their lapses for the very first time, talking about it, not pushing aside the fact that they get moody, and jealous, and _hurt_. It’s a wholeness of a relationship.

A type of entirety that makes them want to constantly feel each other’s skin pressed together; they want to pour each other’s cereal, and take awful photos together, and get annoyed over having to share a bathroom, but even if there was another one they’d still choose to share one because it would just be weird not fighting about it.

*

Harry takes Louis’ palm in his own hand when they are in a little cafe on the backside of the rocky shore. He holds it open, spreading each one of Louis’ fingers apart- feeling each length, every bone and curve- before pressing his lips to the centre of Louis’ palm. He grabs one of the keno markers at the side of their table, uncaps it, and draws a heart over where he kissed, marking it with the letter ‘H.’

Then, his tongue is poking between his lips and he is licking over Louis’ palm, right there, lapping off his own skin from Louis’ hand until the black ink is just a light smudge in the creases and lines of Louis’ palm. He kisses it again, eyes closing momentarily, before folding Louis’ hand back into a lazy fist.

(There is no word for this.)

Louis’ heart pounds against his ribs, the intimate feeling of _Harry_  thrumming through his entire body in the form of relic radiation from the Big Bang. Louis is so disembodied by his feelings that he reaches over the small table and tangles his fingers in Harry's curls, pulling him in for a quick, rough kiss right there in the small cafe. He can taste the ink on Harry's tongue, feel it seeping into him, and it’s so intoxicating. Louis never wants to stop kissing, or touching, or loving.

(Louis thinks the reason there is no name for what Harry just did, is because if there was, the moment wouldn’t have seemed so beautiful. If anything, it’s a metaphor, and if Louis was a writer he would tell you what it means. He isn’t though, and he doesn’t need to be when he has Harry's tongue in his mouth and his curls between his fingers.)

*

They buy small sandwiches from the deli and eat them on the hillscape shore, watching the wave’s crash against the rocks below them. The sun is out now, and the beach is filling up with more and more colourful towels, umbrellas, and groups of people. It’s a Saturday, and all the little kids have their kites out as parents try to keep track of them.

They're getting ready to start walking back to their hotel, when Louis stops abruptly on the hillside, pulling Harry back to him by the hand that's clasped to his.

“Why’ya stopping, Lou?” Harry smiles. God, his smile. It’s so effervescent. Louis feels buzzed like no other when he realises that that smile has been pressed against his.

Louis pouts though, subtly, placing his hands flat across Harry's chest and pressing himself as close as he can get to Harry. He leans up, asking like a child, “Remember the promise you made me?”

Harry bites the inside of his cheek, and shakes his head ‘no’ with a small smile.

Louis bites his lip. He rubs circles onto Harry’s shirt with his thumbs, ghosting over Harry’s nipples from where they’re hidden under his shirt. “You said I could get you a bikini.”

Harry’s eyes flutter momentarily before they widen. “I don't remember promising that,” he breathes out. His cheeks are flushing, and the wind is making his hair a giant mess of tangles.

Louis bats his eyelashes, pushing his lower lip out. “Please?”

Louis knows Harry wants one, too. He knows. Can feel it in the way Harry's gaze is burning his own.

“Lou, I’m not going to the beach in a biki-”

“No!” he cuts off, not meaning for it to sound so forceful. “No,” he repeats softer. “Just for me. I don't want anyone else seeing you, no one else,” he drags out lowly, pushing himself closer to Harry; breathing hotly, “mine. You’re mine.”

Harry shivers, feeling Louis’ hot breath spread across his face and his thumbs rub against his nipples. He quickly nods, before spilling out, “Yeah,” he swallows, “please? Will you get me one?”

“Of course, baby,” he says sweetly with a smirk, pecking Harry's lips before pulling him along like the menace he is.

They find themselves in a large shop with palm tree decals and ocean wave sounds spilling through speakers. It is filled with different beach items- clothing, toys, boards, towels. They don’t actually look long, is the thing though, because as soon as they step inside Harry see’s the one he wants. He smiles mockingly at Louis as he holds it behind his back, refusing to let him see.

So Louis huffs, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. He thinks he has every right to see what Harry has picked out.

Harry leans in close, lips pressed to the shell of his ear, “Don't you want it to be a surprise for later?”

So, fine. Okay. Louis uncrosses his arms and lets Harry go try it on, by himself, with another huff out his nose. He pouts outside as Harry buys it, making a mental list of all the ways he wants to get back at Harry for doing this to him.

*

Louis plops down on the large log that is conveniently right next to the towels where Liam and Zayn are lying beside each other. Their eyes are closed, and they’re on their backs soaking in the hot rays of the sun.

Louis lets out a loud sigh, announcing his arrival, and then pouting when neither of them open their eyes and indulge him. He mentally hopes they get bad sunburns. But knowing Liam, he probably made them put on five coats of sunscreen, and also growing up with Zayn, he knows he doesn't burn, just gets deliciously tanner. Lucky bastard.

“What do you want, Louis?” Zayn asks eventually, stretching his arms above his head. He still doesn't open his eyes, but he manages to spot out Liam's hand immediately. Louis thinks that that is kind of cute, before he shakes his head and sulks further.

“Well aren't you two cute,” he mutters into the sand, and then stomps on it with his foot. Semantics.

“Where's Harry?” Liam asks, and Louis almost wants to tell them that he is clearly right beside him, and maybe if they opened their damned eyes they’d see him. But, he doesn't.

He doesn't, because he spots Harry walking down the wooden beach stairs. It isn't his fault that in the five minutes it took Harry to go put the stuff in their hotel room he was having separation difficulties. He just feels very needy right now, especially with all that's happened. And the bikini. Needy and a bit annoyed.

And a bit horny.

The first thing he does among reuniting with his beautiful boyfriend whom he has missed so much, is tweaking his nipples, and then frowning when he finds no bikini top underneath.

“You twat, I told you I wasn't going to wear it down here. Besides,” he starts, smirking, “you seemed rather upset by that idea.”

“Well I wouldn't be upset if it was under your clothes and I was the only one who knew about it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Needy arsehole.” Harry grins at him, walking toward Liam and Zayn.

“I think you’re the one with the needy arsehole, Harold.”

Harry rolls his eyes, ignoring Louis and instead asking: “Where’s Niall?”

*

They find Niall.

Well, actually, Niall finds them.

Liam and Zayn have flipped over to their stomachs now, still holding hands, but this time their eyes are opened, their heads lying close to one another as they whispers- private words, and private smiles. Harry and Louis had just got back to them from dipping their toes in the water. Well, Harry dipped his toes in the water, Louis ended up full on soaked. He had simply tried to tackle Harry into the ocean for some fun ‘wrestling’ (“Louis, since when do you wrestle?” “Since when I said so.” “You mean, ‘since I found out I like public sex and wrestling seems like an easy way to make dry humping not look indecent.’” “I don’t think you would call it dry humping if it was in the ocean.” “Shut up.”) but somehow he ended up stumbling, then tripping face first into the waves, and well, Harry just bent over laughing at him. So Louis’ sitting on the old beach log, sopping with water and with a pout on his lips. Harry squishes between his legs, despite his wet pants. His eyes are closed, silently purring as Louis undeniably gives in and starts to play with his hair.

They hear a grunt, and then an, “Oh god.”

They all look up to see Niall turning away, and presumably, walking back from where he came from. He is in board shorts and a tight, black shirt; hair sopping wet as he flicks it away from his eyes.

“Where ya’going, Ni?” Zayn calls out.

He gets another grunt in reply, and then Niall is turning and making gagging motions, “All of you,” he points to them, “disgust me.”

“If you're going to the smoothie shop bring me back a banana-kiwi!” Louis calls out to him, making Harry snort into his knee.

“It’s closed!” Niall calls back. He kicks Louis' sweats that are lying in the sand to dry.

Louis laughs harder.

*

Niall finds them again. He’s in sweats now. Sodding sweats, as if he didn't pack an array of annoyingly american beach clothes. He has a beanie over his mess of hair, and no shirt on. He tries to squeeze in with Liam and Zayn, but they shove him away with an elbow to the ribs and he lands with his face in the sand. He whimpers like a baby, and crawls to Harry and Louis, curling up beside them.

“Look at all that chest hair!” Louis says like a proud mummy, running his hand over Niall's chest, "What a man you're growing up to be!"

“Stop it, you twat.”

Louis rolls his eyes. He is still only wearing his pants, even though he is sure his sweats are dry by now, and he is also still playing with Harry’s hair, trying to figure out how to French braid Harry's curls. At least Harry appreciates his obviously sentimental touches.

“You alright, Niall?” Harry asks, bumping their knees together and smiling fondly over to him. Louis tugs his hair, motioning to him to keep his head straight ahead.

Niall shrugs, playing with his phone.

“C’mon,” Harry insists lightly, “talk to us.”

“Milo was supposed to teach me how to suuurrrf today,” he drags out childishly, pouting.

Louis tries to hold it in, he does, but then he is laughing and still trying to hold it in by biting his lip, but really, it just isn't working, and Niall glares at him as strange pig-like-noises slip through his lips.

“What?” he says meanly.

“You got stood up,” Louis laughs finally.

“It wasn't a date!” Niall says incredulously.

“Then why are you so bummed over it?” Liam asks from the blanket, and Louis can distinctly hear Zayn whispering to him, ‘don't get into it.’

“Cause it’s _surfing_ ,” Niall says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “ _surfing_.”

“You do got a bit of the surfer look going on,” Harry teases. Louis yanks his hair again, not because he is moving his head around, but just because. He thinks maybe Harry is squirming a bit by it, but it could just be his imagination.

“I know,” Niall's eyes widen as he sits up from his slouching position, “therefore I need to learn how to surf.”

Louis rolls his eyes again, leaning over Harry's head and tugging his hair down so Harry's head tilts upwards. He kisses his lips softly, sighing into his mouth. He thinks he likes Harry’s lips just as much upside down as he does right side up.

"Stop iiiit," Niall groans, scooting away from them.

Louis lets out an exaggerated moan, and Niall stands up, "Zayn, Liam?"

Before Liam can give in sympathetically and let Niall come sit with them, Zayn is grabbing his face and forcing his tongue down Liam's throat.

“Screw this, screw you, all of you!” Niall yells dramatically, “‘m gonna go find someone to tongue with too.” Under his breath, he murmurs, “bunch of homos.”

They should feel bad, really, but right now the only thing they are feeling bad about is their association to Niall.

“Hi gorgeous, want to, oh, I don't know, hold my hand?” Niall subtly asks, winking at the brunette. Lovely brunette number 7 just shakes her head ‘no,’ same creeped out look as the rest before her, before speeding off and rucking her beach bag higher up on her shoulder

“How about you do me a favour,” Niall drags out flirtatiously, “and you come lay with me in the sand?”

The girl looks up to the man that is holding her hand, confused. The girl blinks, before decidedly just scoffing and walking off with the boy that is now wrapping his arm around her waist and turning back to glare at Niall.

“Honestly, Niall?” Louis calls to him.

Niall flips him the bird, yelling out: “I thought I could get two for the price of one.”

Louis shakes his head. He is still carding his fingers through Harry's curls, whose cheek is pressed to his thigh, watching Niall intently.

“Hey mate,” Niall says to a broad shouldered guy with dark hair and little bits of stubble, “Do you wanna like, hold my hand and stuff?”

“Um," the guys says, looking anywhere but Niall.

Niall waggles his eyebrows, winking at him.

"I’m not gay, bro. Sorry.”

Niall looks to the rest of them confused. “I’m not gay either!” he calls to the guy, adding for the ‘straight’ effect, “bro!”

“Mate,” Liam calls, sitting up despite Zayn's hand that is pulling him back down, “please tell me this isn't how you try to pick people up normally.”

Niall shakes his head, hands on hips, “We are in a town where no one knows who I am,” he grins, shrugging, “so my new name is Drew, and I’m acting like a Drew would.”

“Terrible name, really,” Louis mumbles into Harry's ear, kissing his neck lightly, “might even be worse than the way he's trying to get laid.”

“Hi cutie,” Niall says, bending down to wave at a little girl.

“Okay, no, nope,” Louis says, standing up, and stepping over the log, “I will let you embarrass yourself, and possibly get the shit beat out of you, but I will not let you be a paedo.”

“I am not being a paedo!” Niall yells back, shaking his head as he looks back to the little girl that is smiling at him. She is missing one of her front teeth, and Niall wants to coo at her.

“You just aske-”

“Linsey, what did I tell you about bothering strangers,” they look up to see a woman running over to them. The woman pulls her sunglasses off the perch of her nose, and back through her hair to sit atop her head

Niall smiles up at her when she makes it to them, “She wasn't being a bother,” he looks to the little girl, voice going soft as he pokes the little girls belly button, “were you?”

Louis groans inwardly.

The little girl giggles, and Niall’s eyes widen as his chin drops, “I made her laugh. I made her laugh!”

The woman's eyes light up as she laughs at Niall's excitement. “You did, yes.”

Niall stands up, extending his arm, “Hi, I’m D-Niall!”

The woman raises an eyebrow, shaking Niall’s hand before, presumably, grabbing her daughter’s hand, “Hi, Niall. I’m Catherine.”

Louis rolls his eyes, looking to Harry as they chat. Harry smiles to him, blowing a kiss. Louis can't help but to bite his lip, blushing as he catches it, and holds his palm to his lips. The smudge is still there from earlier.

He blows the kiss back.

After another woman is calling for Catherine, she and Niall finally say their goodbyes. Niall bends down, and gives the little girl a hug. "See'ya 'round, little cutie."

As they start to walk back to the group, Louis looks to Niall, “I knew you were a mummy's boy ‘n all, but really?”

“Louis,” Niall whines, “I have to spend my time in law books and classes, or in that god awful pizza shop, let me live a little.”

“If you wanna live a little, how about instead of hitting on little girls and their mothers, you go jump in the ocean naked, or better yet, tell Perrie you like her.”

Niall’s eyes widen, and he puts his finger to his lips.

Louis rolls his eyes, but doesn’t talk about it further. He goes back to sitting on the log, one leg curled under his bum so Niall can curl up next to Harry. He is compassionate.

“I need alcohol.” Niall mumbles.

“I know,” Louis agrees, and Harry slaps his thigh.

Louis feels a bit bad, really. Niall is one of his best mates, and he knows how easily Niall gets attached to people. It isn't in a romantic way or anything like that either, just in a genuinely friendly way. But he still does get attached. One night Niall called him drunk, going off about how much he misses the old lady at the bakery that he hadn't been to in three days. So, sometimes he gets in these moods. He just likes thinking of everyone as friends, really.

So Louis wants to offer him a pint, or tell him to go eat a snickers bar. But instead: “Hey, isn't that smoothie shop guy?”

Niall lifts his head, “Mi?”

“Hey, it is.” Harry smiles, elbowing Niall.

“Niall!” the boy screams. He is in a light pink surf tank, and black board shorts with a matching pink stripe down the sides. His skin is a warm honey-tan, and his hair a dark, wash-out champagne colour that droops below his ears.

Louis leans over to Niall, whispering, “I bet he’s gonna love the chest hair.”

“Oh shove it,” Niall says, standing up to greet the boy.

The boy engulfs him in a hug though, burrowing his head in Niall's neck. “Thought I was teaching you to surf today?”

Louis doubles over in laughter, falling into Harry who shoves him backwards. He falls over the other edge of the log and into the sand on his back, laughing so hard tears are in his eyes. Harry quickly crawls over the log and on top of him, glaring.

“So- he’s so g-”

Harry kisses Louis hard, shoving his tongue into his mouth to shut him up, but he can feel Louis still laughing.

“Just ignore those two,” Niall starts, “they're always all over each other like that.”

When Harry pulls back from Louis’ mouth for air, Louis laughs harder, croaking out “gay! gay! gay!” over and over again and Harry scrambles to cover his mouth with his hands.

“And that one is mentally retarded,” Niall adds as smoothie boy nods, small smile perched on his plump pink lips.

Harry is laughing too, now. Watching Louis with his eyes that are closed and crinkled, and despite Harry's hand covering his mouth, the giggles still escape through his fingers. Harry can't help it, it’s infectious, and Louis just has that effect on him.

In the background of their laughter, the boy is explaining to Niall why he wasn't at the smoothie shop, and how if the offer was still on the table he’d still love to teach him. Niall strips down to his pants as a ‘yes,’ and as soon as they are gone Harry pulls his hand away and slaps Louis’ chest lightly.

“C’mon, you have to see it.” Louis chokes out through his dying laughter.

“That's n-”

“Zayn!” Louis calls from his back, cutting Harry off, “you see that?”

“Bloody awful!” Zayn calls back.

“You know how awfully cliché it would be if we all turned out gay?”

Harry furrows his eyes, rolling off of Louis and into the sand. “I've honestly never heard anything about a group of friends all turning out to be gay.”

“Well fine, Harold,” Louis says, “do you know awfully weird that would be?”

“Harry,” Zayn cuts in, “you’ll find it best if you don't indulge him when he is being a prat.”

*

Zayn, Liam, and Harry all gather wood for a bonfire, whilst Louis insists he is being of the best help by leaning all the logs and sticks so they gather to a point. ("Louis, how is that helping?" "Watch a movie, Liam. It's how the pros do it.") Harry just rolls his eyes, but he still can't resist the fondness that makes its way into his smile at the childishness of his boyfriend.

Liam eventually goes off to the store to buy hotdogs and s’mores to roast over their fire, insisting that ‘this is much better than eating fast food, guys’ and to Louis, that, ‘yes, i’ll get the good chocolate.’

So Harry, Louis, and Zayn sit and make small chat. Mostly, they make holes with the heels of their feet in the sand, watching as more and more people begin to pack up and filter off of the beach as the minutes pass, and the sun lowers in the sky.

Louis' stand of wood eventually falls over, making them all flinch from being caught off-guard. Zayn laughs loudly as Louis curses, kicking the mess of the firewood. Harry tries not to laugh, he does, as Louis buries his head into his lap pouting, but he can't stop the giggles that escape, and he feels Louis' teeth biting through his sweats on his thigh. He just laughs harder.

Soon enough, Niall re-joins them. Smoothie shop boy is practically clinging to him as they laugh and sip on smoothies.

"Don't," Harry whispers, pinching the inside of Louis' thigh.

"Harry," Louis whines, "you know I have too. Look at them."

"If you do," Harry draws out, "I won't let you see me in my new bikini."

He kisses down Louis' neck, feeling cheeky as his hand that was previously pinching the inside of Louis thigh is now rubbing it, making Louis go a bit breathless.

There is this new air to them, like a more secure closeness that ties them together. Everyday they’re learning how to communicate better with one another. Each kiss a different feeling, every glance, sigh, breath is something more. Underneath it all there is always more.

They haven't even known each other a year, but Louis feels like Harry has been there every day of his life. There is this piece of him that feels like he has already loved Harry forever, and he can go another forever after that one, and another after that one, too.

(He thinks they are the same perambulating star, bursting in a collapsing star, turned into the cocktails they are now.)

Louis can't help but try to subtly shift down, wanting Harry to palm him through his now dry sweats. He can't help but to imagine Harry's head resting in his lap, mouth next to his crotch, breathing hot air over his hardening cock in front of everyone. He wants to run his fingers through his hair, everyone thinking Harry is just sleepy as his fingers teasingly trace the outline of Louis' cock that is unseen to everyone but the two. He wants Harry, wants him right now.

(Louis kind of, definitely, might have one of those kinks. What did Harry call it, he thinks, exhibit, exterminator, exit high mission.))

"We're missing one," is the first thing Niall says upon returning, and Louis actually flinches from his thoughts, breathing in deeply as he closes his eyes and relaxes. As if Harry was reading Louis' mind, he lies down in the sand, and stares up at Louis from where his head now rests in Louis' lap.

“He’ll be back soon,” Zayn answers with a small smile from where he is sitting a bit away from Louis in the sand, still making holes in the sand with his feet. Harry is mewling as Louis continues to play with his curls, that are actually becoming less and less curly and more of just wavy, due to how much he has twirled them over the day. He is acutely aware of the hand on the inside of his thigh still, just barely rubbing, but it’s enough to get him at least a little hard. To be fair, Louis thinks he is always at least a little hard when he is with Harry.

Niall makes a small noise in reply before sitting off to the side, Milo following him. Louis watches as they share one phone and play games, leaning over one another as they take turns. Niall is still only in his pants, hair pulled in different ways, and Louis notices the way Milo’s hand is on his thigh, and how he glances down every once in awhile.

The hand squeezing his own thigh harder is his reminder to behave, and Louis lets out a pouty puff of air before looking back down to Harry, who smirks up at him, thumb just barely grazing over Louis’ dick. Louis strokes his finger over Harry's jaw- cheekbone, eyelids, nose, mouth- that is quirking up in a smile.

Zayn watches in a calm type of shock, he can’t see what Harry is doing, but really, the shock is all from what Louis is doing. Just the sight of his best friend acting the way he is almost heart-warming. He feels it, feels the love Louis has for this boy. He has never seen his best mate be this way with someone. It’s like Zayn is watching all the pieces of his life come together. Louis is practically his brother, and watching him fall so hard for someone is really quite breathtaking.

He smiles softly, content on watching in silence until Liam gets back.

 

 

**ii.**

The fire is burning bright. No one ever bothered to clean up the pile of fallen wood, instead just dropping a lit match to the wood that they poured a bit of firewood ignite-ent on. A bunch of sticks and hotdogs are burning on the inside of the pile, from when Niall and Louis decided it would be a good idea to fight through the fire with their sticks and hot dogs, a waste really. An empty 12 pack of beer lays to the side, filled messily with the empty cans. A few yawns riffle through the air, the time of 9:36 p.m. dawning on them along with a long day spent wandering the beach.

Right now, Louis and Harry are stacking up the s’mores for everybody. Every once in awhile, they stop to feed one of the chocolate bites to each other in mock romance, fluttering their eyelashes, and licking their lips exaggeratedly. Smoothie shop boy is surprisingly still hanging out with them, still clinging to Niall as they chat (flirt, insists Louis) endlessly.

“Hey Ni,” Zayn calls, getting his attention, “how’d surfing go?”

The boy next to him laughs as Niall answers, “Yeah, well it turns out you can't learn to surf in one day, so-”

“-you sucked then?” Louis throws out, he catches a glimpse of smoothie boy nodding furiously.

Niall sneers playfully, crawling through the sand to snatch away a few of the s’more sandwiches. Louis rolls his eyes, looking over to Zayn to see Liam back from throwing some things away. He leans over Zayn, whispering, “You ever find out what you were gonna do, babe?”

“You ever find out what you were gonna do, babe- _what_?” Louis says, interrupting in curiosity.

Zayn sighs, “Still have to do a pencil drawing for the art show.”

“You get themes like last year?” Louis questions. He misses where he is putting the top graham cracker due to not looking, and Harry catches his wrist to help him out. Domestic and shit.

Zayn nods, “Seeing things in a new light.”

Louis slinks back in confusion, “That's different.”

“Yeah I know,” Zayn shrugs, “It’s a lot deeper than last year.”

Louis hums in response, “You gonna give us a preview?”

Liam laughs, making Zayn look to him with a small grin. “Mate, I've been trying to get a peek at his final pieces since the day he got the prompt.”

Louis snorts, “Maybe if you blow him first.”

Harry turns away and tries to hold in his laughter, as Zayn turns to Liam, eyebrows raised with a questioning smirk.

“He’s pretending like I haven’t already tried that on him,” Liam rolls his eyes, grabbing Zayn’s hand and holding it in his lap.

Zayn turns pink under the yellow glow of the flames, biting his lip as he squeezes Liam's hand. Harry passes them some s’mores, and Louis glances to see how ‘Minnie’ are doing.

“Oh for fuck's sake,” he mumbles under his breath, watching as they try to throw little bits of food into each other’s mouths, “will you two just stop flirting and do the deed.”

He feels nails dig into his arm and he turns to see Harry shaking his head. He can tell Harry is trying to scowl at him, but there are two barely-there dimples present in his cheeks, so it’s a failed attempted, really, and they both know it.

Louis pouts just to indulge him, “I had to, babe.”

“What?” Smoothie shop boy asks, glancing to Niall.

“Go easy on him, he’s not used to things up his bum.” Zayn chimes.

“What?” Smoothie shop boy asks again with raised eyebrows.

“Unless you want to bottom,” Louis says in mock defence.

“I’m not gay.” Milo states in confusion.

“Jesus Christ” Niall mutters, dropping his head to his hands, “I’m not either.”

The laugh that leaves Harry's mouth is loud and carefree as he hunches over, eyes closed, and tugging at Louis’ arm. Louis looks to Liam, mouthing “what?”, and Liam shrugs in disbelief. Harry just laughs louder at the silence between all of them. He can't even help himself from snorting and tugging at Louis' sweats.

“Okay, calm down Harold,” Louis says, “I was actually wrong for once, I know, shocking,” he draws out sarcastically, making Harry laugh harder.

Niall rolls his eyes, standing up, “Well, I’m gonna take this as my invitation to turn in.” He holds his hand down to straight smoothie shop boy, helping him up with another roll of his eyes.

“Hey, no-” Harry slowly stops laughing, “you don't have to go, sorry-”

“No, no, H,” Niall starts quickly, “wasn't you, never you. Don't worry.” Niall smiles, turning to everyone and bowing, “G’night homos, we would stay longer, but we obviously do not belong," he turns to walk off with Milo laughing beside him, before turning back, "as you refer to it, we have some 'bumming' to do."

Milo snorts, grabbing Niall's hand as they walk down the beach together, presumably to the smoothie shop. For some reason, it reminds Louis of when Niall threw a giant party at his parents house when they went on a second honeymoon, and he ended up ditching it to go out and get pizza with a college kid that showed up.

Liam stands up a few moments after as well, “I think I’m going head up too,” he says it through a yawn and a stretch, and Zayn stares up at him. “You gonna come?”

“Nah, I'm gonna stay down here with these two for a few minutes if that's okay.”

Liam smiles, picking up the rest of the trash so he can throw it away, “Perfectly fine love, see you in a bit.”

Zayn smiles after him, before turning back to Louis and Harry.

“Whipped,” Louis enunciates.

“You’re the one talking, alright.”

It makes Harry blush, and he smiles at Louis, taking his hand and entwining their fingers.

Louis squeezes Harry's hand, before: “Okay, but can we talk about how smoothie boy is straight.”

Zayn groans, and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Did’ya want him to be gay?” Harry teases.

“No,” Louis drags out, “but did you see how wrapped up he was with Niall? They walked off holding hands for godsake.”

“To be honest,” Zayn starts, “Niall is like that, too. With, like, everyone.”

Louis shakes his head, “If you didn't know who Niall was, and you saw him out in public, would you honestly think he was straight or gay?”

“Not like that, twat,” Zayn states, throwing a seashell at him, “but you know how touchy he is with people. Maybe Milo is like that too.”

“I don't know,” he drags out slyly, “I'm pretty sure that boy is bent.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, glancing to Harry, “What did you think?”

Harry shrugs, “Now that we know he’s straight, I can see how easily mistaken we were with how he was acting, so.”

“Exactl-”

“Harry,” Louis whines, interrupting Zayn, “you're supposed to support me.”

“Oh right,” Harry rolls his eyes fondly, “obviously gay. Probably had a butt plug up his arse.”

Louis claps, sticking his tongue out at Zayn, “Told you! I did!”

Zayn closes his eyes, exhaling deeply, before pointing to the ocean, “Why don't you go jump in there?”

“Want me to?” Louis asks, standing up.

“Yeah, you'll get one toe in and start screaming like a baby.”

“I take this as a dare then, Mr. Malik.” Louis converses, arching an eyebrow.

“Whatever you see it as, bud,” He relaxes in the sand, watching as Louis starts running to the dark ocean, moon illuminating the sand. His body is easily noticeable as he gets closer to the water.

Harry bites his lip, watching bemusedly as his boyfriend slows down, stopping right before the water touches his feet. He looks back, smile wide as he holds a thumb up. Harry laughs under his breath, holding a thumb up in return.

Louis jumps in, a small splash coming up as he squeals, jumping back out of the water. Zayn laughs, just loud enough for Louis to hear, which only makes him jump back in, running through it quickly before jumping back out. He is laughing hysterically, running from the ocean, then chasing it back.

Harry lets out a heavy sigh, smile breaking out over his face as he rolls his head to see what Zayn's reaction is. He is surprised though, to see Zayn staring at him instead of Louis, and then: “He really loves you, you know?”

Harry blushes, looking down at his fingers that are in his lap. He picks up a handful of sand between his crossed legs, pouring it over his bare feet. This feels more unexpected than it probably is, and Zayn watches him softly until he replies, which is just a simple, “Yeah?”

Zayn laughs a little, crawling over to him and plopping down against the log beside him. Except, he keeps his knees up to his chest instead of laying them out in the sand.

It’s not that Harry is uncomfortable by it, it’s just that Zayn and him have never really talked much. If anything, he thinks he is mostly just intrigued by what Zayn is doing.

“I have never seen him act with anyone, the way he acts with you,” Zayn isn't looking at Harry, he is watching his best friend play tag with the ocean. “I was there when he quit sleeping in diapers, when he got chicken pox- he was almost as bratty as he is now-, and believe it or not, when he woke up for the first time with a boner.”

Zayn laughs, looking to Harry now. Harry thinks he looks a bit restless, tired perhaps. “I was there when he got his first girlfriend, and then for his big gay moment,” Zayn pauses, smiling factiously, “which... was directly after his first girlfriend.”

Harry can't help but to snort, nodding along to what Zayn is saying. He keeps trailing his fingers through all the little sand specks, waiting for more. “I was there for his first boyfriend and breakup, too.”

Zayn stops talking when Louis yells extra loud, and they both watch Louis fall on his bum. He screeches, trying to hurry and get up before the tide gets him wet. He barely makes it, but when he does, he high-fives himself ridiculously, smiling back at them.

“I was there when he was with Josh, the only real long-term boyfriend he had ever had. He was cool, but they acted more like friends than anything,” Zayn face scrunches up, “to be honest, I think I recall Louis telling me that they barely even kissed, mostly just got each other off and called it good.”

Harry feels a tinge of jealousy at the fact that someone else has touched Louis; has seen him come, heard his moans, tasted his skin, hell, fucking smelled his natural essence.

“But, the point is, I’m his best friend, and I've seen him in all his drama queen moods, and his emotional breakdowns. I’ve seen the way he treats his mum and little sisters, and all that other sappy shit best friends see,” Zayn rolls his eyes, “but I have never seen him act the way he acts with you.” It’s soft, the way he says it. Almost like it’s a secret.

Harry just- he _blushes_ \- but there is this piece of him that suddenly feels very alive, especially as he looks out to see Louis who is still laughing and running through the water, skipping random rocks against the dark waves. And Louis' just- he is _his_. This is his life, his reality, and Louis is fucking _his_. And it’s so unbelievable, the fact that Harry gets him. There is an endless amount of unsaid things and too many kisses wrapped up in them, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Zayn is still talking, “-the way he treats you, it fucking baffles me, mate. I just- I honestly thought you did something to him to make him that way. But all you did was make him fall in actual-real-fucking love.” Zayn shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s beautiful though, because here I watch this brat grow up, thinking he is gonna end up with someone like- who the fuck knows- _smoothie boy_. But he got you.” Zayn smiles at him, “He looks at you like you're the only thing that matters to him, and sometimes, I think you are.”

Harry feels this need to cry all of a sudden. This burst of happiness and love, not only from what Zayn told him about Louis, but for the fact that Zayn decided to sit down and tell him it. It is so overwhelming, how his life has changed so much. And these people- they are all a part of it now. They know who he is, and they know what he has been through, and they _love_  him.

Harry inhales deeply, not sure of how to respond. Zayn stands up and offers him a hand to help him up, and Harry takes it with a bite in his lip. As soon as he is standing, Zayn is wrapping him up in a hug.

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs into his neck, squeezing closer to Zayn.

"Don't tell Louis I told you all this shit, he'll kill me."

Harry laughs in response, "Alright, don't worry."

Zayn kisses the side of Harry's head before pulling away. “I’m going to head up to bed. Tell Louis night for me, yeah?”

“Of course, you have a good sleep yourself.”

Zayn smiles, “You too, Curly.”

Harry bites the inside of his cheek, watching Zayn walk across the rest of the beach to the stairs. He makes sure that he makes it up them alright, and watches him walk through one of the hotel's doors before turning his attention.

He inhales deeply, looking out at the ocean. Louis’ slowing down a bit, the game of tag with the ocean coming to a halt as he yells to Harry, “Where’s Zayn going?”

“Bed,” is all he replies, and Louis nods.

“Why don't you come dip your toes in the water with me then?” Louis yells to him. His skin feels like it is buzzing, his feet tucked into the mush of wet sand. It is a nice mix of comforting and calming, though, as he wiggles his toes around in it.

“It's probably freezing cold.” Harry yells back. There is an evident smile across his face, despite the fact that he is shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Louis says honestly, kicking the wave that rolls up the shore to him. He shrugs his shoulders, his face covered in this gracefulness that sweeps over his posture in the most elegant of unsure ways, “feels good though.”

Harry thinks he might just be the ocean, and Louis’ the moon. He feels a vast emptiness that shudders underneath the attention of Louis, pulling him closer, closer. The gravity between them stronger than the first sonnet Shakespeare wrote and the water lilies of Monet. Harry is 65% water and he has emptied all of it from his eyes in hopes to turn himself inside out. He wants to become more, wants Louis to always have this pull over him. Loving him is like gravity. Inevitable.

Harry walks to the edge of water, and Harry takes Louis' hand, and Harry is the one that drags them out into the ocean. The immensity of the ocean pushes them closer, and closer; wading out in the ocean till the water is up to their chests and they are shivering against each other’s skin. The water is dark and terrifying, endless amounts of anything could be around them, in the distance of them, out there. The moonlight is the only comfort beside the trembling squeeze between each other’s palms.

The glimmer of the moon pins the water down in a mass of glittering waves. It’s calm; cold, dark, and calm. It’s the eerie sensation of the quilt your grandmother made you days before she passed away. They cling to each other, they cling to the water.

“Harry…” It's a choked out whisper. The sound of his name rolling off of Louis’ tongue is the rough reminder that this is real. He isn't daydreaming from that old brown couch, with alcohol stains and the gross stench of come, he isn't a mere passer-by of this. He isn't just drunk off the idea that a better place exists, because he is in that better place. This is his life, and Louis is in it.

Harry can't help but to cup Louis’ jaw, feeling the drops of water run down his hand and over Louis’ face. He kisses him hard, lips shaped together like gold and pearls. It’s cold as fucking hell, and here they are, shivering against each other, opening their mouths and letting their tongues glide together as they grip each other like lifesavers, the ocean pouring from their lips and into each other’s veins. The pull of gravity is like the weight of a never ending cocktailed collision.

“I love you so much,” Louis breathes into Harry's open mouth, sucking his lip between his teeth and biting down, “so fucking much.”

Their hearts beat against their ribs so hard they crack, and their lungs are gasping for breath; burning, burning, as they kiss rougher, and rough. More, more, always more.

(infinity starts with a knot in the chest.)

Their hips stutter against each other as they grind in the freezing water, both of them groping each other’s arses and pulling each other closer. Then, suddenly, Harry is tugging them from the oceans grip. They run across the sand holding each other’s hands, and then they run down the quiet and empty halls of the hotel giggling, and Harry presses Louis to the inside of their hotel door, kisses him so deep he thinks he can feel Louis’ heart pounding against his lips so he presses harder.

“How about we shower,” Louis says, breaking from the kiss to breathe, “And then you show me how you look in your new bikini?”

Harry’s never heard a better suggestion

They strip their sopping clothes from each other, cringing at the noise of the ocean-slick fabric hitting the linoleum of the bathroom, sand covering their bodies as the step into the shower. Harry turns the dial of the shower and puts it at a comfortable temperature. He grabs the flannel from earlier and rubs it over Louis’ chest, picking up the shitty body wash they had bought and squirting it into the fabric, rubbing circles into Louis' skin.

“Your body is so amazing, Lou,” Harry murmurs, and Louis can feel his cheeks, and neck, and chest _blushing_  for godsake.

Louis quickly looks for another flannel, wanting to touch and clean Harry too, wants him to always feel good and clean. He wants to love him through every touch. He comes up short though, so whilst Harry is rubbing over his tummy, he reaches out of the shower curtain and grabs the first thing that feels like cloth. It’s a bit bigger than what he wants- approximately towel size- and heavy in his grip once it is wet under the spray of the water, but he runs it over Harry's skin in return anyway, down his sides, and over his shoulders.

“You could have got an actual rag, twat.” Harry laughs, twisting one of Louis nipples with his free hand. Louis squeaks -fucking _squeaks_ \- and Harry laughs harder.

“Don't complain, Styles.” Louis retorts. He reaches around Harry's waist and winds the heavy towel behind his back. He holds both ends in his hands, and uses it to pull Harry closer to him from where it is wrapped around his back.

“Aren't you being cheeky,” Harry raises an eyebrow, pressing to Louis’ chest without struggle. He decides to use a bit of cheek himself, and trails his own flannel down Louis’ back and to his bum, rubbing it between his arsecheeks. He gets a gasp from Louis in return, and he circles his hole with the rough fabric.

Louis ruts against Harry, dropping the soaked towel to the bottom of the tub, ignoring the ugly sopping noise it makes. They are both half hard- have been since the ocean- but they still press closer, not _touching_ there, but everywhere else. Just feeling.

Harry kisses Louis’ neck, the salty taste of the ocean washing onto his tongue as he laps at the skin below Louis’ ear. He is still rubbing the cloth over Louis’ hole, just slow, gentle circles that are drawing out small little breaths from Louis’ lips. He’s never done this before, at least not with Louis. But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to; doesn't mean he doesn't want to touch, and lick, and taste Louis.

“Lou?” he breathes against his wet skin, ignoring the spray of the water that is drenching them, “can-can I eat you out?”

And fuck, yes. Louis wants that. Never wanted it so bad, he thinks.

Before he even knows it, he is gripping Harry's mess of sopping wet hair, tugging them roughly and kissing Harry so hard he thinks he may pass out.

“Be so good for you, Lou.” Harry murmurs against Louis’ rough mouth, letting Louis abuse his lips, “let you ride my face. Anything for you. Please.”

Harry feels so desperate, begging Louis to let him taste him like this, but Louis’ just as needy as he finally tears away. His lips are red, but Harry's are even worse, completely swollen.

Louis groans, eyes fluttering as he squeezes his nails into Harry's skin, “Fuck, princess. Would you like that?”

Harry nods, dropping the flannel and moving his hands to squeeze at Louis’ arse, digging his nails in and spreading him apart. “Yes, yeah. Please,” he begs, biting his lip as he bats his eyelashes. Small water-droplets forming on the tips of them.

Louis breathes out a ‘fuck’ as he turns around suddenly, placing his hands against the cold tiling of the shower wall. He pushes his bum back, arching his back to pop his arse out more. He shakes it back and forth a bit, looking over his shoulder to see Harry dazed and just watching.

“Once in a lifetime chance, Curly. Wouldn't waste too much time,” he winks over his shoulder, and Harry shakes his head, forcing a breathless laugh before he is on his knees, the warm spray of the shower hitting his back. He kneads at Louis’ arse roughly, spreading him apart and running his thumbs down the insides of each cheek.

“Watch out for sand,” Louis smirks, and the soft laugh that is Harry's bellows through the shower. Louis feels something warm against his left bum cheek and looks over his shoulder to see Harry giggling into it, his face pressed into the round flesh. Louis smiles at him, and he can feel Harry's eyelashes flutter against his skin.

“I love you,” Harry mutters against his skin, placing a chaste kiss.

And yeah, Harry is the one for him.

“I love you too,” he breathes out through his smile, not even affected by his aching cock or how the water is slowly turning colder.

There is a moment. This moment where they just stare at each other, eyes glowing with the brightness of supernovas, flashing before each other’s eyes. It’s so incapacitating, it is, they _are_. The way black holes freeze, and orbits stop, and people suspend into nothing.

It’s everything.

But between reality and reverie, they always choose reality. Because no dream, no fabrication of life, is better than what they have. Even if it isn't perfect; small and a bit broken. It’s theirs.

So in right now's reality, Louis shakes his bum, pulling them both from their stare. They both become keenly aware of how hard they are again, and how Louis’ arse is in the air, and how Harry is on his knees in front of said arse.

Harry shakes his head, laughing again before pulling Louis apart, admiring his tight, pink hole. He rubs his thumb over it, watching the muscle flutter under his touch. He can't even resist himself.

Louis’ head hangs between his shoulders, arms shaking as he grabs at the flatness of the shower wall, knuckles white, the smallest of moans slipping from his lips as he searches to grab something, anything. Harry's tongue is lapping over his hole, circling it to a point before pressing in, laving against his tight, hot walls that squeeze around him.

Louis gasps, feeling Harry pull him further apart, licking in deeper, “Fuck baby, that's so great. Being so -ah- good for me.”

Yes, Harry thinks in his head, as if he was anything but good for Louis. He slowly pulls out, curling his tongue into his mouth and biting his lip, flicking his thumb over the ring of muscles as he fucking _savours_  the taste that is Louis and only Louis.

“I’m doing good?” Harry is genuine in the question as he circles his thumb around Louis’ hole, feeling the slickness of his spit, the water, and of Louis.

“Perfect, Princess. You are doing perfect.” Louis rasps, rocking back against Harry's thumb.

Harry gulps, watching as the tip of his thumb dips into his heat, his hole immersing around it. Louis shudders, back arching further as clenches his eyes closed. His mouth falls open in an ‘o’ shape as he lets out the sluttiest of moans.

Harry leaves it there, twists his hand a bit, watching curiously with a bite in his lip as Louis writhes from the intrusion, thighs trembling.

But then the taste of Louis’ arse is gone from his mouth, and all he wants is more, that's all he ever wants. So he licks a slow stripe over Louis’ reddened hole and around where his thumb is barely pressed inside, before pulling it out and whispering at the top of his bum in his softest of voices, “Will you fuck my face?”

And fuck.

Louis reaches behind him and grabs a fistful of Harry's hair, and that is all the warning Harry gets before Louis is shoving him closer to his arse. Harry immediately starts licking; lapping everywhere, until his velvety tongue is pressed inside of Louis’ taut little hole, and Louis’ arse is rocking back on his face. Harry's tongue fucks Louis fervently, making him moan and gasp, and choke out: yeah baby, more, more, _more._

Harry let's go from where he is gripping Louis’ arsecheeks apart, arms wrapping around the front of Louis’ quivering thighs and spreading them further, pulling him back against his face that is stuffed in Louis’ arse, and it just _works._

Harry can feel the tremors go through Louis’ body, feel it in his arms, and palms, and fingers, and definitely his tongue that thrashes inside of him, making him choke on his moans, growl, and stammer out inarticulate words of “baby,” and “fuck" and "more." It’s so fucking hot, the way Louis’ thrusting Harry's face deeper, fucking himself on his velour tongue that buries itself deeper with just the tug of Harry's hair.

All it takes after that is a loud moan from Harry, that rips from his throat, sending vibrations from his tongue to Louis’ arse in just big enough pulses to make Louis choke out another, “fuck yeah,” painting, hot, white ropes across the shower walls. He loosens his grip in Harry's curls, still slowly rocking back with his eyes scrunched close to ride out his orgasm.

Harry pulls back, sucking in a huge gulp of air and rubbing his tongue across the roof of his mouth, tasting Louis everywhere, jesus, he loves it.

“Fuck,” Louis laughs breathlessly, slowly slipping to the shower floor to sit in front of Harry. His cheeks are glossed in crimson, and eyes black from his high. He’s still shaking, still feels Harry's tongue digging deeper inside, fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

“Good?” Harry asks purely, spreads Louis’ knees from where he is sat on the bottom of the shower, and crawls between them.

“Fucking amazing,” Louis breathes, lolling his head to look at Harry.

“Good enough to let me fuck you?” Harry asks with a grin.

“Ha,” Louis laughs, “as if.”

Harry laughs too, dimples collapsing into his cheeks. “I tried,” he murmurs happily, taking Louis’ face in his hands and pressing his smile to Louis’ happily.

Louis sighs into the kiss, wrapping an arm around Harry's neck, and the other slides down his tummy and then rests on his hip, rubbing soothing circles into the hot skin. They both know that Louis would let Harry fuck him.

They kiss sluggishly, languidly licking into each other’s mouths, small little sighs against lips as their eyelashes flutter against each other’s cheeks. The water is surely a bit cold now, and Louis’ thighs are no longer trembling from the quake of Harry's tongue.

Harry presses closer, his still hard cock rubbing against Louis’ thigh, and suddenly Louis pulls away from the kiss, frowning at the disappointed noise Harry makes. He pecks his lips consolingly, before looking down to see how dark and swollen Harry's cock is. He bites his lip, feeling himself slowly getting stiff again.

“Go put it on,” he says, voice deep and raspy as his eyelids hood.

Harry bites his lip, meeting Louis’ eyes, “Anything for you.” He kisses Louis’ cheek, before stumbling out of the shower, closing the curtain behind him so Louis won't be able to see him.

Louis groans, knocking his head against the back of the shower wall, and telling himself to just breathe.

When he finally brings himself to stand up, his toes are cold and a bit purple. He shuts the water off and reaches for another towel, laughing when he sees all the flannels next to them. He can hear Harry humming to himself outside of the hotel bathroom, rummaging around in his bag, he presumes.

Louis towels himself off, ignoring his semi-hard dick that's still a bit sensitive as he shakes out his hair. He tries not to think about the fact that Harry is merely feet away from him putting on a bloody _bikini_. He groans again, opening the bathroom door a crack, “Can I come out?”

“Wait, not yet,” Harry calls back, voice concentrated.

Louis shuts the door again, sighing lightly. He steps back in front of the mirror and examines himself. A bit of scruff is coming in, and he still hasn't gotten that haircut he has desperately been needing.

He clicks his tongue, looking down over his tummy to his where his cock is. Biting his lip, he takes a hold of himself and leisurely strokes himself to full hardness again despite the sensitivity. Curiously though, Louis finds himself turning around, completely forgetting his cock as he spreads his bum cheeks and looks over his shoulder to the mirror. His hole is wonderfully swollen, a blushing colour where its puckered in the middle, and yeah, Louis’ admiring himself and what Harry's tongue has done to him.

He’s about to spread himself further, just for the hell of it, because he knows if he thinks about Harry too much he’ll start pumping his cock and then never be able to stop. But Harry voice cuts through the silence of their hotel room softly, “I’m ready. You can come out now.”

 

(Lovers Suspense

(n)

the state or feeling between two lovers who have more gravity pull between each other than light and blackholes.

a seemingly perpetual muse between two people who have an extreme longing for one another.)

 

Louis holds in his breath. Harry is in front of him. The lights are pale, and Harry is there. Harry is there and Louis’ breath hitches. His heart catches, and his lungs snag, and here he is, bluntly naked but totally enthralled by his boyfriend, all lanky limbs and clumsy senses. His boyfriend who is in front of him, standing in two pieces of meagre cloth that is the colour of his pupils. Simple, and pretty. Louis wonders how it can make him look so enticingly pretty.

He finds Harry beautiful in his slacks and in his skinnies. He thinks he is just as gorgeous in his panties and skirts, with his nails painted pale. He is angelic, right now, in his bikini. Two fucking pieces of cloth.

It’s a skimpy triangle bikini. And Louis can tell Harry bought it with the idea of it being seductive and sexy, the deep black making Louis want to grab and bite. The way the strings tie at the side of his hips into bows, soft sides noticeable. Louis knows when Harry turns around and the bikini quickly turns into a damn near _thong_ , that Harry wanted this to be a sexy surprise. The small triangles that cover his chest, tied around his back and neck, designed to be able to slinch the pieces back and forth to reveal his nipples. This was designed for appeal, for sex.

Louis feels soft. He feels the need to lay Harry down, kiss every inch of his body. He just has this undeniable pull from somewhere under his skin to caress the pieces of Harry that crack underneath the weight of who he is.

Harry clears his throat, shifting Louis from his thoughts, "Does it loo-"

Louis doesn't know exactly when he grabs the back of Harry's neck and starts kissing him like he doesn't know how to do anything else, but he did, and he is. Harry sinks into the touch, placing his hands on Louis' shoulders and bringing him closer, before wrapping an arm around his neck. They’re breathing hard, tightly pressed together as their lips move harshly and their tongues lap in each other’s mouths, licking, licking, tasting.

Harry steps them back just enough so that his knees hit the back of the bed and they gently fall onto it, bodies pressing hard against each other’s, and all they do is gasp and kiss more, more, rougher.

Louis runs his hands up and down Harry’s sides, fingers tracing up his milky skin, feeling the bumps of bones and the braille of scars. He can't help but to moan against the curly boy's lips. He can feel the need in his fingertips, in his eyelashes, in the tiniest, least irrelevant of places on his body.

Harry rips away, gasping for air whilst he grips Louis’ arse. Louis’ chest heaves, and it only gets worse when he looks down and sees Harry with pretty red lips and spit trickling down his chin. Further down, the expanse of Harry’s chest bare and naked, all but the two pieces of fabric.

He carefully moves one of his hands that is tucked in Harry’s hair down to his chest, thumbing over the sleek Lycra fabric. He traces one of the triangles that cover Harry’s chest, before he slowly starts edging it to the side, the fabric sliding easily along the thin black string and Harry’s creamy skin. He feels his mouth water at the sight of Harry's erect little nub, and he pushes his thumb into it, sucking in the gasp that leaves Harry’s lips. He does it again, rubbing over the sensitive skin so softly that it drives Harry crazy, just a wisp of skin to skin, craving more, more, more, always more.

Louis’ a bit greedy, always has been. He looks up to Harry’s face to see him with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, and his eyes on Louis’. Louis bites his own lip, never breaking eye contact with Harry as he slowly leans down and noses over his nipple. He tentatively trails his head higher, letting his tongue slip between his lips and flick against the pink bud. He hears Harry’s breath stutter, and he does it again, before closing his lips around it and sucking it between his teeth. He licks and sucks, nibbles just the littlest of bits, and he has Harry writhing.

Harry moans, so soft and sweet and high, his back arching to get closer to the touch, but Louis pulls away. Harry whines, high in his throat, and Louis places a small kiss to the nub to appease him.

“So pretty,” Louis whispers over his skin, moving his weight to his arms so he can lift up and stare down Harry’s body. His cock is tucked awkwardly in the small fabric, hard and blushing, slipping out of the Lycra and resting against his hip, pinned down by the thin string at his hips.

Harry whines. He grabs Louis’ jaw, his thumbs pressed in front of his ears and his fingers curling back behind his neck, dragging Louis’ face towards his own. Louis follows with a slightly open mouth, his tongue smoothing over Harry’s before their lips even touch. Harry keeps one hand on Louis’ jaw, the other trailing down the dip of his back to his plump arse. He fits his palm over one cheek, digging his nails into the skin, and he pushes down so Louis’ crotch grinds down into his own. Louis lets a breathy moan slip between his lips and into Harry’s open mouth as their tongues move harshly against each other. It’s slutty; sexy and slow and fucking slutty.

“Fuck me,” Harry murmurs fucking filthily, arching his back and pushing Louis’ arse down again for more friction. He bites his lip when Louis goes to lick into his mouth again, Louis’ tongue trailing over Harry’s lips and to the side of his cheek, a low growl slipping through Louis’ lips. “Fuck me,” he says again, the desperate whine leaving his lips, “fuck me against the wall, please.”

Louis’ grip on Harry’s hip only gets tighter as he breathes against Harry’s cheek, hips stuttering against Harry’s. He's painfully hard, he has come already once tonight, and he is painfully fucking hard.

He has to tear himself from Harry or else he knows he’ll never be able to stop grinding his cock into Harry’s, the Lycra fabric so smooth and cool when it touches the tip of his cock, _fuck_. He gasps when he sits up, nothing swirling in his mind except the fact that he has all the milky skin displayed in front him, tied together with black cloth.

Harry moves to support his weight on his elbows, and Louis splays his hand over his chest, pushing him back down into the mattress. Harry simply whimpers, back arching uncontrollably as Louis roughly spreads his legs. He kisses between Harry’s thighs, biting down on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He kisses, bites, laps higher, until his nose is pressed into the fabric of the black bikini, and resting against his hard cock. He licks the crease where his thighs meets his crotch, following the seam of the front crotch of the bikini to Harry’s soft hips. The bikini cloth turns into thin strings that are tied into messy bows on Harry’s sides, making his doughy skin on his lower waist roll over the thin string in a wonderful bump. Louis pinches there lightly. He pinches, and kisses, and bites, teasing the supple skin.

Harry is lightly circling his exposed nipple, short breath escaping his lips as he lazily watches Louis, bathing in the warm attention. He lets his free hand rub at Louis’ shoulder and skim through his hair, just lightly touching. He pinches at his abused nub, whimpers forming in his throat and he tries subtly grinding up, even though his cock is met with nothing but air.

Louis’ teeth dig into the plump skin one last time, before he trails his teeth to the knot of the bikini. He feels his eyes flutter close as he nips one of the loose ends of the bow in between his teeth, and pulls on it. The bow unravels easily on Harry’s hip, and Louis doesn't hesitate to sweep his tongue under the mess of the two strings and curl it, pulling the small mess back so the knot unravels completely.

Harry can’t help but to moan at the sight. He feels sexy, really fucking sexy, with the way Louis bites at his flesh and pinches at his skin. He loves feeling this way, dirty but in a clean way. Feeling Louis’ soft lips kiss roughly over his skin, across his tummy and to the other side of the string. He unties that one the same way, a burst of pleasure rippling through him. God, he loves being touched. Loves the way Louis’ gentle hands can bruise his skin so beautifully and harmlessly. Sex was always a burden; a terrifying thought until he met Louis. Louis who indulges him, who makes him feel absolutely filthy in the most joyous of ways. He wants to be a slut for Louis, he wants to be touched and to touch, and to be fucked rough, and slow, and desperately, and also gingerly, and lovingly, and passionately. He wants so much. All Louis, Louis, Louis, and being _his_.

Louis tears the now untied bikini bottom from Harry’s body, leaving him completely bare except the top that is crooked over his chest. Harry watches the fabric in Louis’ hand, and before Louis can throw it to the side he grabs his wrist. Louis looks up from where he was about to start mouthing at Harry’s cock, eyes meeting Harry’s, a look of need in his dark eyes.

“Gag me,” he whispers stridently, grip tightening around Louis’ wrist.

Louis blinks, unsure if he’s heard Harry correctly.

“Gag me,” Harry enunciates again, more of a whine than anything, “please.”

Louis feels his mouth open and his eyebrows knot as a low moan erupts from his throat. He doesn’t even hesitate to quickly put his thumb to Harry’s bottom lip and pull it down, watching Harry’s mouth get wider. His thumb slips from his bottom lips to his chin, and he licks into Harry's’ mouth for one last time, bathing in the hot wetness before he pulls away, a string of saliva following.

He balls the bottoms of the bikini up, and carefully shoves the fabric between Harry’s lips and into his mouth.

“Just like,” Louis says breathlessly, voice cracking, “pinch my nose if you need anything, okay?”

Harry nods, mouth stretched impossibly wide with the black Lycra.

Louis just looks over his face for a moment. He thinks he could make himself come without even touching himself just from watching Harry like this. He’s so fucking pretty, eyes glossy and lips stretched and red. He looks so needy. Needy and desperate and ready to be fucked.

Harry bucking up is what pulls him from his trance, and he whispers a quick, ‘fuck,’ before planting a kiss to Harry’s cheek, and then he goes back to leaning between his legs. He bites his lip, looking back to Harry’s face to see him breathing heavily through his nose, faintly moving his hips up. Louis swallows thickly, before slipping his hands down Harry’s thighs and to the crease of his arse. He lifts Harry’s legs, pulling them up so the junction of his knee crooks on his shoulder, and Harry’s feet dangle down his back.

He has a perfect view of his round little arse, the milky cheeks like silk under his fingertips. He runs his palms over each mound of arse, before slipping his thumbs into the crease and spreading the boy apart. He feels himself let out a surprised whimper at the sight of Harry’s pink hole already wet and fluttering. He runs his thumb down the crease, and it slips into the puckered hole easily, making his other hand grip Harry’s arse harshly.

He hears a loud whine, and his grip on Harry’s arse eases as he looks up to see Harry pointing at the cloth lodged in his mouth. Louis immediately goes to pull it out, but Harry grasps his wrist, bringing his other hand up to pinch at Louis’ nose. Despite the fact that Harry’s mouth is stretched with black fabric, Louis can tell he is smiling, probably a small giggle trapped behind the material, and Louis laughs too. There is something so special in being able to go from kinky to playful.

Louis takes the cloth out for Harry, even though Harry has always had full access to do so. The first thing Harry does is kiss Louis, teeth clacking in the rough kiss before he is pulling away and biting at his lip.

“I fingered myself when I went to put the stuff up earlier,” he says lowly, likes it's a secret, “and again real fast before you came out of the bathroom.”

Louis feels like such a hormonal teenager, the way all of this is going straight to his dick and making it pulse erotically. He feels like he should have a little more composure over himself. But then again, this is Harry. So the whimper that slips through his lips doesn’t embarrass him as Harry blinks up at him in mock innocence.

“M’all ready for you, been thinking about this al-”

Louis doesn’t let him finish. He kisses Harry hungrily, feeling his growl resolve into Harry’s mouth as he licks at his teeth and the roof of his tongue. He thinks if he hadn’t already came once, he definitely would have come already at how overwhelming all of this is. Harry is so fucking filthy, _god_ , he gets him so hard.

Before the kissing gets too much more intense, he is pulling back and quickly putting the fabric back between Harry’s lips. He hikes Harry’s legs back over his shoulders as he pulls back, nails digging into his creamy thighs that tremble lightly.

“Fucking filthy,” he grunts, unable to stop himself from rutting forward, the tip of his cock rubbing against Harry's back. He spreads Harry, watching his hole flutter open once again, slowly rocking his hips forward so his cock continues to rub against Harry's soft back. Louis puckers his lips, pushing his spit to the front of his mouth, and then letting it trickle from his lips and over Harry’s hole that is clenching around nothing. “God," he starts, kneading his fingertips into Harry's arse. He lifts one of his hands and then brings it down to Harry's arse, giving him a firm spank. He bites his lip, repeating the action, "you're so fucking slutty, aren’t you?”

Harry simply whimpers, eyes closing and head turning into the side of the pillow.  He pushes his arse back even more into Louis' touch, trying to get anything; friction, fingers, hopefully a cock.

Louis growls, low in his throat. He drops his grip from one of Harry’s thighs so he can reach forward and grab Harry’s chin, jerking his chin up again. “Aren’t you?” he says sharply, watching Harry nod desperately, moans slipping through the fabric that's stuffed into his mouth. His cock gurgles with precum, the translucent liquid slipping down his stomach that is tilted upwards and dipping into his fucking belly button.

“Up here fingering yourself,” Louis says lowly. He moves his hand that is gripping Harry’s chin to his chest, pinching the one exposed pink nub, rolling it between his fingertips and tugging on it harshly, “just like the naughty boy you are, huh?”

Harry isn't exactly sure what it is about being called a naughty boy that makes tears fill his eyes in utter pleasure, but it does. It just makes him feel so little, makes him tingle all over. He feels the word ‘daddy’ erupt on his tongue, and he almost freezes in fear that Louis will laugh at him, before he realises that the word came out more as a gurgled mess than anything.

Louis rubs over his hole again, eyes dark and cheeks flushed, so enthralled by the way his fingers just slip right in. His throat goes dry, and he swallows, blinking from his dazed thoughts.

“Said you wanted to be fucked against a wall, didn’t you princess?” he murmurs sweetly with just the slightest bit of smirk in his tone. He watches Harry nod again, an undistinguished whimper filling his ears. “Yeah, that’s what you want baby?”

Harry just nods more and more, pointing to the hotels cabinet next to the bed. Louis leans over and pulls out the first drawer, seeing a small bottle of lube inside that Harry must have brought. He bites his lip thinking about that.

He sits on his knees on the bed as he slicks himself up, biting his lip as he tries not to squeeze a little harder or go a little faster. Once he feels he is drenched in enough lube, he stands up, and pulls Harry with him, who was watching Louis hungrily as he spread the lube over himself, trying to refrain from taking hold of his own cock. As soon as Harry is standing, though, Louis pushes him to the wall, a loud thump filling the room. They both sort of feel bad for anyone that is staying in the room next to theirs.

Louis hears Harry’s moan crack in his throat despite the makeshift gag, and he pins his wrists to the wall, kissing over the fabric that is shoved into Harry’s mouth. He licks over Harry's stretched lips, and then over the fabric, biting on the fabric lightly. It’s so fucking indecent, so obscene. It has both of them bursting at the seams when Louis licks over Harry’s cheek, hot breath hitting his skin.

Louis thinks he can hear Harry repeating ‘fuck me, fuck me, fuck me’ through the bathing suit bottoms, and he knows that is what Harry is saying when he feels a hand wrap around his cock, and then a leg trying to do the same except around his side.

Louis groans, snaking his arm under Harry’s leg that is trying to wrap around him, and folding it toward his chest. He presses Harry tightly to the wall, in the process pushing him further up the sleek plaster. Harry's back burns from the drag up the wall, and he wraps his arms around Louis' neck, loving the odd sensation he gets from it.

“I got you,” Louis murmurs genuinely, placing a soft, reassuring kiss to the black fabric gagging Harry, “c’mon princess, s’okay.”

Harry nods hesitantly, eyes closing and head tilting back against the wall. He lifts his other leg up a bit unsteadily, hesitantly. They shift; stumble a bit, but eventually Harry’s legs are hooked over the crease of the inside of Louis’ elbows, thighs spread wide and pressed to his chest as his lower legs dangle from Louis’ arms. Louis is grasping Harry’s arse cheeks, spreading him apart and breathing heavily, balancing himself best he can.

“Okay baby,” Louis starts, “I’m gonna step back a little, d’you think you can reach behind your back and line me up?”

It's so soft. Light and soft and sweet, like he is giving instructions to a toddler.

Harry simply nods, eyes wide. He can do it. He can.

“Cause I can’t fuck you like this, can I?” Louis says softly, and Harry feels so _weird_  and _little_. The way Louis’ tone is so soft, stating it like he is trying to help a little kid put into words what’s wrong with a situation. God, he is so _naughty_ , he _is_.

He nods his head, and as soon as he does, Louis takes a timid step back. The muscles in his arms strain just a bit, but Harry is thin and light, and when he reaches around and lines Louis’ cock up with his pink, little hole and then sinks down, he fits so perfectly against Louis’ hips.

Louis hisses as he enters Harry, because he is so painfully swollen, and Harry’s tight walls clenching around him feel like heaven. He gathers his breath quickly, stepping Harry back so he is pressed to the wall, murmuring a quiet, ‘good boy,’ as Harry links his arm back around Louis’ neck and grips the wrist of his other one.

His chest heaves and his cock bounces against his tummy, and he keeps letting the word ‘daddy’ slip from his tongue because he knows Louis can’t understand him and he doesn’t see anything wrong with indulging himself as Louis’ hard cock slides in and out of his arse, nudging him in just the right spot that makes his legs quiver and breath hitch.

Louis’ main focus is not dropping Harry as he rocks his hip quicker, quicker, _harder_. Harry loves to be fucked hard and he knows this. He gets comfortable, though, and soon enough he drops his head to Harry’s chest, and sucks at his perky, little nub again. He listens to all the enigmatic moans and whimpers that slip from Harry's mouth and contort through the fabric as he pounds into his little arse. He lets his drool slip from his lips and down Harry’s chest, suckling on the one nipple, completely oversensitive from all the touching.

Louis noses his way across Harry’s chest, hips stuttering as he gathers Harry up a bit more and starts to properly fuck him again. He shifts the black triangle of the bikini top that is covering his untouched nipple to the side, wrapping his lips around the much lighter in colour nub that stands proudly.

He sucks and bites and kisses. Flicks the small nub with his tongue, and tugs at it lightly with his teeth. He has Harry whimpering, and he pulls back to take in the sight of the wrecked boy. _His_ wrecked boy.

Tears are slipping down his pink cheeks in pure pleasure, head tilted back and mouth stretched obscenely. His chest is flushed lightly, the black bikini triangles both pushed to the side of his contrasting chest, both nubs red and wet. Harry's arms are wrapped loosely around his neck now, too dazed to be able to keep any sort of grip. Precum is smeared all across his tummy. His tummy that rolls into a small crease at the bend of being fucked against a wall, his cock looking painfully untouched, the tip of it a deep red and spurting more and more amounts of precum over his mushy little tummy. Every time Louis fucks into him, it bounces lightly, and then slaps back down against his skin. It’s just all so fucking dirty and indecent. The way their cut off moans and whimpers curl together; the obscene state Harry is in, looking like such a fucking filthy minx in his arms, taking all that Louis gives him and just whining for more. His hot walls clenching around the thick cock that pounds into him relentlessly.

“So desperate,” Louis grits, “aren’t you, baby?”

Harry just whines louder, nodding. Louis’ never been so fucking kinky like this. In fact, the kinkiest thing he had ever experienced before Harry was when one of his one-nights stands asked him to choke them during sex.

He daringly moves one of his hands that is holding Harry’s arse to his hip, nails digging into the skin there. “Taking my cock like such a good boy,” Harry pulls Louis closer, making the space between them even smaller, and Louis’ bites his lip at just the slightest of the new angle, “such a good, good boy,” he murmurs breathlessly, “such a good princess.”

Harry feels tears streak down his cheeks, the hot feeling curling in his stomach at the praise. All he can do is let him fuck him keenly, and choke on, ‘yes daddy’s,’ that Louis will never know about. He didn’t know he liked being called a good boy so much, he didn't know at all. He just likes it so much, the care and the love and feeling little again. He wishes Louis would throw in a ‘little,’ he wants to be called his little boy. Wants it so bad suddenly in his fucked out daze.

Louis kisses over the black fabric again, pressing Harry further into the wall, Harry's legs bouncing behind his back from where they are thrown over the insides of his elbows. He fucks him fast and hard and rough, sweat slicking his skin and heavy breaths leaving his lips as he puts all his effort into making Harry feel good. He always wants Harry to feel good.

“Such a good boy,” he whispers into the black gag, “my good boy.”

It isn’t ‘little,’ but it has Harry choking on an ‘oh, daddy,’ as he feels himself tremble in Louis’ arm, his cock spurting out thick, white ropes across both of their stomachs. His eyes clench close, and his eyebrows furrow, and his chest heaves for air as Louis murmurs an, ‘oh fuck,’ under his breath.

Louis quickly pulls Harry’s sweaty body from the wall and stumbles to the bed, knowing he won’t be able to hold him up when he comes himself. He drops Harry onto the bed, somehow managing to hook Harry’s lax legs over his shoulders as he stands at the edge of the bed and fucks into Harry’s arse that is raised off the cushioning. He tastes blood from where he is biting into his lip, and it makes him just fuck Harry harder. He doesn’t know why he does it, but he finds himself reaching down and thumbing through the come on Harry’s stomach. Harry’s eyes are fluttering between open and closed, and Louis smears the come that's on his fingers across Harry’s still stretched bottom lip and over the black material shoved into his mouth.

He doesn’t know if it's the lovely lost look in Harry glazed eyes, or the way he still hasn’t taken the fabric from his mouth like he wants Louis to do it for him, but either way, Louis finds his small little ‘uh, uh, uh’s,’ turning into a long, drawn out ‘oh,’ as his cock pulses and he comes deep inside of Harry’s arse, his tip nudging Harry’s swollen prostate one last time as his hot come fills him.

Louis collapses against Harry’s chest, both of them awkwardly half on the bed, half hanging onto the floor.

Louis’ breaths come out erratically and his head ends up tucked under Harry’s chin as he feels his body shake with his orgasm. Harry is just so warm and pliant beneath him, making Louis’ body buzz in bliss.

He feels his eyes slipping close, sleep taking over him in the awkward position, because goddamn it, he has come twice in one night and he feels so fucking fuzzy, like he is on the edge of reality. But then there are two fingers covering his nose and pinching it lightly. His eyes flutter open in remembrance, and he finds himself fucking giggling.

He lifts his head lazily, feeling so blurred as he stares at Harry’s shiny eyes that are crinkled. He giggles again, tracing over Harry’s bottom lip, before carefully tugging the black fabric from Harry’s mouth.

It's wet with spit and drool, and Louis giggles and throws it to the floor as Harry opens and closes his mouth a bit. When he stops exercising it to where it feels less strange, he looks to Louis, and breaks into a wide grin, two dimples indenting his rosy cheeks.

He carefully pulls himself further onto the bed, and Louis follows bonelessly. He unties the bikini top lazily, and wipes up his come with it, handing it to Louis who does the same.

“God,” Louis murmurs, dazed, “that was fucking fantastic.”

Harry laughs, and moves himself to where his head is on the pillows of the bed. Louis is still oddly positioned on the bed, his head leaning against Harry’s leg now that Harry has repositioned again, and he places a kiss to the skin above Harry’s knee. He opens his eyes slowly, and looks to Harry's arse and sees his come seeping out of his swollen hole. He smirks, and looks up to see Harry with a small smile on his lips, eyes closed peacefully. He takes the bikini top that is already covered in their come, and then lazily stumbles into a position between Harry’s legs. Harry’s eyes flutter open again, and he just looks so pretty. Louis smiles, before lifting Harry's thighs a bit, and then using the black fabric to wipe the come from Harry’s arse.

Harry’s heart clenches, watching his boyfriend sloppily clean him up, and he feels so loved, so perfect, and so little. He feels like his life has always been this perfect, just Louis and him. Louis’ boy. He really likes that.

Louis throws the bikini top to the floor once he is done, and then crawls over Harry, flopping down next to him and pulling the boy into his arms. They are covered in sweat; sticky and hot against each other, but they can’t be damned to try and cool off. Louis laughs softly again, eyes fluttering happily, and he leans in and kisses Harry gently. “I love you so much, Harry,” he murmurs it slowly, right across Harry’s lips. He feels so happy, so happy and content, content and sleepy. Very sleepy.

Harry smiles softly, his eyes shifting to his cheeks, he doesn’t know why he says it, but he does, “‘m your boy.”

Louis presses his smile into Harry’s cheek, inhaling deeply. The room smells like sex and ocean breeze. “Yeah, my boy,” he whispers, “my good little boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading :-)
> 
> [tumblr](http://wankerville.tumblr.com/)  
> snapchat: wankerville


	4. and all of the voices surrounding us here, they just fade out when you take a breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gosh harry and louis r so in love it hurts :-( 
> 
> [tumblr](http://wankerville.tumblr.com/)  
> snapchat : wankerville

**i.**

A head of curls are tucked into Louis’ mouth, little snores being breathed across his neck and down his chest. There’s a warm heaviness to his chest, and he’s trying to figure out if it's his heart or the yeti of a boy tangled around him. Maybe both. He breathes in and finds that he can still smell the ocean in Harry’s hair as it tickles his nose, and then he sputters, blowing the hair from his mouth.

Harry groans, loud and annoyed, his eyebrows furrowing against Louis’ skin. He squeezes tighter around Louis, turning his face against Louis’, pressing against his cheek and letting out a sleepy sigh.

Louis smiles, his entire body fluttering. “C’mon babe,” he whispers, “gotta pee.”

Harry whimpers, his arms tightening from where they are wrapped around Louis’ neck, rubbing his cold nose into Louis’ cheek.

“I’ll be right back,” Louis says, turning so he’s on his side, making the boy fall from his chest.

Harry hums heavily, pouting as he turns his head into the pillow, eyes still closed.

Louis laughs quietly, his body buzzing, _god_ , he feels so fucking great. He kisses Harry’s hand that curls into the pillow, laughing at the hum Harry makes. He loves when Harry is extra sleepy in the morning. Cute and ruffled and pouty, lidded-eyed and cuddly.

He rolls out of bed, stumbling to his feet. He holds his arms above his head, and stretches out. He hears a happy hum and looks over his shoulder. One of Harry’s eyes are open, blatantly staring down his back and to his arse. He quickly closes it, turning his face back into the pillow when he hears Louis’ chuckle.

Louis feels a slight sting to his back as he walks to the bathroom of the hotel, kicking at a bikini bottom on the way. He bites his lip, doing his business and then grabbing his toothbrush from the plastic baggy he used as a travel bag. He brushes his teeth quickly, bending over to spit into the sink and to put his mouth under the faucet to wash out the extra paste. That's when he sees the small red mark.

He quickly rinses his mouth, spitting and turning the faucet off. He turns, looks behind his shoulder, and _jesus_.

Little red marks trail his back, _scratch_  marks. Not deep or bold, just little, dull, red marks trailing down his shoulders, and the midst expanse of his back, and _fuck_.

He bites his lip, lifting his arm and pressing his thumb into one of the light marks on his shoulders, a small whimper leaving his lips at the dull sting. Harry really is too fucking much and _god_  does Louis loves it.

When he walks back into the hotel room, Harry is curled on his stomach, head tucked into the pillows, body snuggled in the duvet. He looks warm, looks cosy.

Louis means to slip in beside his boy, cuddle him into his chest and go back to sleep for a few more hours before they have to leave. Instead he crawls under the duvet, grabbing Harry’s ankles and gently spreading his legs. The boy whines, shifting between sleep and reality, mind foggy and light. Louis bites his lip, staring over his milky skin in the darkness of the duvet. He sits between Harry’s spread legs, gently prodding his fingers in the crease of Harry’s bum cheeks, and spreading him apart. His hole is red, pretty and red and used from last night, and Louis wants to taste.

He does.

Harry whimpers, shifting back, feeling a hot wetness between his- _oh._

Louis knows he’s awake when he feels his boy's hips lightly rub the mattress, grinding his hips into the sheets. Louis licks, and licks again, tasting bits of his cum in and around Harry’s hole. It's fucking great, fantastic. It shouldn't be, should be gross, disgusting, but he loves it, makes him wiggle his tongue in deeper, lick more fervently, spread his boys cheeks apart more, more, _more_. Louis tastes himself and Harry mixed together and decided it's his favourite taste in the world.

Harry grinds his cock into the mattress, whining as Louis’ tongue licks at his still sensitive hole, _jesus._

He comes, sweet and lovely, cock between his tummy and the mattress; gasping, high pitched and beautiful, rocking his little arse down on Louis’ tongue.

Louis trails kisses up Harry’s back; big, loud, and smacky. When he gets to his trembling boys neck, he plops down, laying right on top of Harry's smooth skin and kissing lightly at the back of his ear. “Looks like someone’s finally awake,” he murmurs, biting the shell of his ear, “really left your mark last night, huh?”

 

*

 

The dismissal feeling is obvious as they pack into the van. Their bags are zipped up to breakage, full of seashells and novelties and memories. They checked their keys in, slipped on their tennis shoes full of sand, and washed out the ocean water that stuck to the split ends of their hair for the final time.

Liam and Zayn are in the front seat, looking at Zayn’s phone and discussing something of maps and hours, Louis doesn't pay attention to that. He looks out the window and sees Niall’s head tucked into smoothie boy's neck. He gags. “There is no way they’re straight.”

Harry groans beside of him, scooting from the middle seat to the far right one and hitting his head against the window.

“I promise we can meet up again sometime. I’ll call ya!”

Niall jumps into the van with an ‘unf,’ quickly shutting the van door and turning to blow a kiss to smoothie shop boy.

Louis’ lips curl into a type of disgusted frown.

“Everyone ready?” Liam asks, looking in the rear-view window with raised eyebrows.

He takes the silence of the van as a ‘yes,’ and puts the vehicle into the right gear. Niall is pressing his lips to the glass of the van, kissing it dramatically and getting blushes and fucking _giggles_  from smoothie shop boy. Louis is disgusted.

 

Not surprisingly, it’s silent. The radio is still on from when they drove over, but this time, none of them are singing along. Niall has his headphones in, lying down in the middle row of seats. Zayn's head lies against the glass of the passenger window, watching the ocean go by; the beach town scratching its nails over the van as Liam pushes harder on the gas pedal.

Louis bites his lip, glancing over to see Harry looking out of his own window. He pouts, walking his fingers across the carpet of the seat to Harry’s hand, entangling their fingers and squeezing his hand. Harry smiles softly, rolling his eyes.

Louis doesn't like this feeling; the feeling that he is sure he has left something behind when he hasn’t. So many moments with Harry that he wants to bottle up, stick them in the creases of his favourite books and press them there for later, when the smell of the ocean sweated tears are distant in his mind and Harry’s lips no longer taste like salt water.

He gradually watches blue turn to green, the ocean hiding behind the swift edges of trees and rocks. The warm sky slowly turns grey, and Louis will always fall under the belief that the universe tries to match your mood, even in the subtlest of ways; almost in the way you try to match it to a song, suddenly so fond of hearing that one sad tune again after breaking. The busy road turns into a winding one, houses getting further apart from each other as they lay down more inches to the thinning road.

Louis wonders what colour the feeling he is feeling is. This drippingly-sick feeling. One that is like walking through town and picking up a scent of someone who use to mean the world to you, and you refuse to let the nostalgia fill your heart, so instead you let it fill your stomach as you clutch it and look for a place to empty what you're feeling.

Louis isn't sure what smell is filling his nose, or who it is he is missing, or if he is missing anyone at all. He just knows that he keeps thinking of lilacs, because the week before his dad left for good, he gave his mum a bundle of lilacs and told her he loved her.

And maybe, right now, he is feeling a twisted, fearful nostalgia for the future. He just wants to douse himself in the emotions Harry made him feel over their short holiday. It was as if he was falling in love all over again. He is scared he won't feel that feeling anymore. That he’ll love Harry, sure he will, but he won't keep falling for him. Then one day he’ll be giving him a bundle of lilacs too, telling him he loves him, and then walking out the next.

He just gets depressed over not being able to grasp all the happiest, fullest emotions. He wants to bottle them all in a jar, be able to open it whenever and feel that same emotion wash over him whenever it's needed.

“You okay?” he hears to his side, and then he becomes keenly aware of Harry's gaze- worried- his thumb rubbing circles over his knuckles.

And maybe sometimes Louis gets washed over with this mauve emotion, but right now, he is busy falling in love. He knows the reason he can't bottle all the happiest emotions is because if he did, he wouldn't be experiencing it in new ways, new trips, and new kisses.

God, he'll never stop loving Harry. He knows. He knows Harry will always make him feel buzzed like no other.

He smiles gently, shrugging. He knows Harry can tell by just the shift of his eyes if he is okay or not.

Harry gives him the same smile back. It’s sad. The same sad as in having to leave the beach. It’s back to work, and not seeing the other lads, and not be able to leave the sheets a mess because someone else can clean them up.

“Cuddle?” Harry whispers questioningly. His hand is already moving toward his buckle, and Louis smiles, opening his arms. Right now he wants nothing more than to have Harry curl under his arms, place his head to his shoulder, and hold him tight to his chest. He unbuckles too, and shifts his thighs so they're open. Harry carefully scoots over, lifting his bum and situating himself between the canyons of them, his back pressed to the glass of the window.

“You look so adorable,” Louis murmurs softly, brushing his finger over Harry's nose.

Harry huffs against his chest, “arse licker.”

“Oh,” Louis raises his eyebrows, snorting, “aren't you one to talk?”

Harry lets out a loud groan, slapping Louis’ chest with a glare that makes him burst into laughter. And it’s like the rising tension is cut as Niall yells at them to ‘shut up,’ and Louis retorts by leaning over the seats in front of him and flicking him on the chin. As Niall gets up to flick Louis back, Zayn reaches behind him and pinches Niall’s bum.

Then they’re all just laughing, van swerving as Liam high-fives his boyfriend, and they all fall into comfortable conversation.

“To be quite fair, beach was a bit shit,” Zayn comments, reaching to the floorboard for his bag, pulling out his sketchbook.

“I thought it was fun,” Niall says back, almost in offence of what Zayn had said.

“You're just saying that because of Miiillooooo,” Louis tears, making kissy noises behind Niall's ear.

“Honestly,” Liam starts, looking in the rear-view mirror just for conversation sake, “I think we could've just pitched a tent in the Sahara desert for a few days. It wasn't ‘bout the beach, it was just spending time with my mates.”

Louis, Zayn, and Harry all coo at the same time, Zayn reaching over to peck Liam's cheek. Niall groans though, rolling his eyes, “Then how about next time we pitch a tent in Tahiti.”

“Niall,” Louis begins, “Tahiti is just filled with Americans looking at dolphins.”

Harry chokes on god knows what as his eyes light up, “Top Gear!”

“Wait, what episode was that?" Niall asks, turning around to Harry with furrowed eyebrows.

Harry rambles off possible numbers, and Louis mumbles a small disgrace because he can.

Louis listens half-heartedly to Harry and Niall's discussion over Top Gear, Harry subtly sinking further into Louis' body as he talks comfortably. Louis smiles, grabbing his seatbelt and then wrapping it around the both of them for fun, buckling them up.

Niall makes a sound of disgust in the midst of his and Harry's conversation, "Jesus Christ Lou, can't you stop being gross and in love for one minute?"

Harry giggles, snuggling closer to Louis under the straps, and Louis pats his thigh.

"I have to keep my precious little boy safe," he coos dramatically, leaning down to Harry's ear when Niall is busy gagging to whisper, "don't I?"

Harry flushes a deep red, nails unwillingly digging into Louis' side. He looks past Niall to the front of the van, meeting Liam's smiling eyes in the rear-view mirror. He feels like Liam knows.

Louis kisses his neck softly, pressing his dry lips to Harry's dry skin, _god_ , Louis wonders why he would ever have thoughts of not being able to fall in love with Harry ever again when his skin feels like it's made for his lips to be pressed to it.

He ignores the way Harry shudders, stuttering as he tries to pick the conversation with Niall back up, ignoring the lingering kisses.

He doesn't lift his head from the crook of Harry's neck until he hears the distinct noise of the vans bloody blinker signal, and he looks up, and then out the window.

"Um, Li?" he starts, “I think this is the wrong turn off.”

“Zayn gots the maps open for me on his phone, mate. It says it's fastest to pass through these next couple of towns that are 'spose to be coming in."

And Louis knows, despite not coming back this way for years, that this isn't the right way, and they definitely aren't even close to being home, “What are you talking about? We're not even going in the right direction.”

“We are going to visit Harry's mum, remember?” Liam says gleefully.

The subtleties of Harry changing from a breeze to a gust is almost instantaneous, his hand falling limp in Louis’ as he diminishes in front of all of them. Niall stops talking mid-sentence, watching Harry just.... shut off.

His eyes are unmoving, his breath stuck in his throat, blood evaporating. He turns ghost white, all the strawberry and milky colours leaving his body, and no. Louis doesn't- he doesn't know if Harry can do that _now_. He thought they meant they'd come back when Harry was ready. He doesn't know if Harry is ready.

Louis quickly moves the hand that is resting on Harry's hip to his tummy, entangling their fingers inside the safe warmth of fabric and metal. Louis squeezes his hand, trying to get Harry to squeeze back in the silence. It's like Louis was just starting to see Harry branch out, just starting to see him get the tiniest bit better, and now it's like he is trying to squeeze for an answer, for life. Harry is non responding as Louis presses his air to Harry's lungs, and they're both burning from the lack of consonance. Louis clears his throat against Harry's lips, almost helplessly, as he asks against his lips, “We’re doing that today?”

It isn't as so much for Liam, as it is for Harry.

The van suddenly goes quiet, not just quiet as in no one speaking, but as in no one wanting to even move, breathe. Zayn is watching Harry softly from the passenger seat, blinking curiously at the way Harry can wipe his slate to nothing, shift his glowing spirit into seemingly emptiness.

Finally, Liam clears his throat, taking a glance through the rear-view mirror, “Well, uhm. It's just a lot closer right now. If we decided on another day to drive Harry up from the city, it would take nearly ten hours, and we’d have to rent another vehicle, and like, find time. 'S just easier this way."

There is a sting to his pulse, Harry's panic rushing into his palm. “What about work on Monday?”

“Lou," Liam says gently, "we all have tomorrow off.”

“If Harry isn’t ready, that's okay,” Zayn reassures Louis, then turns to Harry, “Li will turn around right now for you if that is what you want. Just say it and he will."

Niall’s hand moves to rest on Harry's shoulder, soothing small circles. They all just watch him. Even Liam, who looks through the rear-view mirror as they go down the straightening road at a slowing pace.

Louis hates the fact that Harry is put on spot like this, expected to make a decision as big as this in mere seconds, because what happened to him didn't just affect him for a few seconds, it has affected him a lifetime and more. He doesn’t want to rush him, to push him. He wants to lean in, whisper, ‘it’s okay, love. We have time.’ But he knows that by tomorrow morning, despite being able to be completely different, they’ll still be the same, all these emotions will still be here.

“Keep going.”

His voice is strained, coming out small and hesitantly. Louis bites his lip, tightening his grip on his boy to remind him that he's here, that it's okay.

Harry sniffles, rubbing the back of his hand under his nose. Niall looks forward to Zayn, who looks back to him. They smile at each other, something small, and proud, and private. It’s the same look they have given each other time after time, a way to show each other they are proud of one another.

Louis bites the inside of his cheek, bringing up his hand to Harry’s cheek and wiping away the tears that are rolling down his cheeks like the ocean waves that swallowed them before. He carefully wipes his thumb under Harry's nose, knowing how sensitive it gets, and Harry laughs dolefully as he watches Louis wipe his hand on his sweatpants.

Harry sniffles again, staring at Louis with a knot in his eyebrows, the smallest of pouts covering his red lips. Louis shakes his head with an attest smile, rolling his eyes as he tightens his grip around Harry’s waist, turning the best he can to reach behind the seats to half-heartedly unzip his bag and pull out a dirty t-shirt. He pinches it between his fingers, before holding it up to Harry’s nose, which wrinkles in protest, but Louis just rolls his eyes. “C’mon now, love. It’s okay.”

Zayn smiles from the passenger seat, trying to act as if he isn’t adoring the situation of his best mate being so tending. He looks to Liam, patting his thigh and smiling that smile. That ridiculously fond smile that's telling Liam he loves him, and yeah, if he had to he would do that for him too.

“God, is this what love looks like?” Niall loathes, “because it’s disgusting.”

Harry laughs as he wipes the remaining wetness from his pinkening cheeks, trying his best to roll his eyes without making more tears fall, whilst Louis balls the dirty shirt up, and tosses it back. Louis takes Harry's hand back in his, rubbing soothing circles over his knuckles with his thumb, “You want this?”

“Of course,” Harry says wholly, “I just- he could- I- I am just _scared_ ,” he admits quietly. Louis and Niall are the only ones who hear it. Harry’s head hangs, his eyes closing and eyebrows furrowing. Louis can see him trying to hold the stitches together between pinched teeth.

Niall hangs his arm over the back of his own van seats, and carefully rubs Harry’s back. “We’ll protect you, mate,” Niall says personally, looking to Louis, “honestly though, you don't even need the rest of us, the way Louis is with you. Probably won’t even let you go to the loo on your own.”

Harry snorts with watery eyes, looking up to smirk at Louis.

“Nope,” Louis says seriously, squeezing his hand, “never let him out of my sight.”

“God, Lou,” Niall makes a noise that is a mix of a groan and an ‘aw’, “you're either a brat or a sap, “ he pauses, retracting his hand from where it's on Harry's back, now ignoring Louis. “Hey Curly, you still painting my nails, right?”

Louis bites his lip, watching the smile that spreads over Harry’s cheeks, and Niall continues, “I was thinkin’ maybe, orange, white, and green, yeah?”

And that's all it takes for such a sweet moment to be ruined as Louis lets out an annoyed groan, and Niall snickers.

(Niall has his hands on the top edge of the middle row of seats back, fingers sprawled and spaced as Harry carefully drags the green polish over every two nails, leaving the others empty for the other two colours. Louis sits annoyed next to Harry, not only because now he doesn't get to cuddle him, but because he is the official holder of Niall’s choice of nail colours.

But before long Zayn is huffing out and crawling into the middle row of seats, stating he is jealous that Niall is getting all the nail treatment, and he hangs his own fingers over the aft of the row. Louis smirks at Niall, making him hold his own damn Irish nail colours in the hand that isn’t being painted, as he digs through the bag of nail polishes.

He paints Zayn’s nails a Victorian red, adding a second coat that is clear with black sparkles to make it look like a sexy type of lace. He thinks Liam would enjoy it even better with a matching pair of panties, and god knows whatever else Zayn gets into when they fool around.

It’s also very Zayn, too though. Dark and complex and more striking. If anything, it simply makes him look even more artistic. Louis thinks, if you were to put Harry and Zayn in the same cafe, Harry would be the only one looked at in judgmental eyes, because Zayn would be into his drawing, and people would think the polish is just Zayn's way of expressing himself. But Harry is sweet and soft, and people would assume other things. Louis really hates that.

Over all though, Louis is pleased. Because he only messes up once, and that was when Liam went over a bump in the road and the bristles swiped up Zayn's finger, making the boy shriek loudly. He thinks the best part is the fact that Niall laughed so hard that he choked and fell backwards, hitting his head on the seat in front of him and smudging two of his nails.

Liam begrudgingly gives up the driver’s seat to Zayn, because Zayn demands him to get his nails painted too. Before Liam gives it up though, he demands two kisses and a chocolate bar from their next rest stop, so, 'whatevs.' Harry paints attentively over his nails, gently clutching each finger as he softly brushes the polish over. It's so relaxing, Louis thinks, watching him do this.

Niall takes over the passenger seat next to Zayn, and as soon as Liam's black and yellow nails are done and dried, he is reaching over the driver’s seat and massaging Zayn's shoulders, leaning to the side of his head and whispering right against his ear.

Harry cocks an eyebrow, smirking at Louis.

Louis rolls his eyes, “Want me to paint your nails now, love?” he asks, looking down to Harry's nails to see the previous nail polish peeling off.

 

“Can I do yours after?” he asks hopefully, in that soft, shy voice he brings out once in awhile. He is soft and pretty, and it warms Louis’ heart like fresh honey.

“‘Course.”

Harry digs through his bag of polishes, before pulling out a light blue colour and handing it to Louis without looking up. “What colour do you want?”

“Green,” Louis says quietly, like it's personal.

And then a high-school sweetheart blush is spreading over both of their cheeks as they glance up to each other.

(Green meeting blue.)

 

After the nail painting everyone calms down a bit. Liam forces Zayn to give him back the wheel, and then Zayn forces Niall to give back the passenger seat.

Zayn is back to his sketchpad, still trying to figure out what his last piece should be, and Niall plugs his headphones back in and lays down. They are going through a small town, one of those ones that isn't very substantial, but is there, one that no one wakes up and decides they want to visit, unless a family member lives there. A passer-by town.

Harry’s leg is bouncing, Louis knows because his hand is sprawled over it, just above his knee. It's as if he can feel the nervousness transferring into him, the trembling nerves beneath his skin shaking as he digs his blue nails into his own skin.

“Don't do that, love,” Louis say quietly, batting Harry's hand away, “don't hurt yourself.”

Harry looks at him, and the terror is clear in his eyes, the setback. Louis grabs the arm where Harry had dug his nails into and kisses the crescent moon marks gently, making them whole.

“Lou,” Harry chokes out in a whisper, so quiet, so little, Louis barely even hears it. He does, though, and he watches as Harry starts shaking his head, bottom lip trembling. They are getting closer to Harry's hometown. The place he grew up. The place that holds all his crushes, and laughs, and tears, and... _Him_. Harry probably knows the places they are driving by like the back of his hand. They are still a good hour away, but the pent up monsters are gnawing at him. He’s going to crack.

Louis refrains from pouting, opening his arms up for Harry to curl up inside of. Louis’ stomach clenches as he holds in his breaths, tries not to start crying himself, because he doesn't know what to do at this point. They are close, they can't just turn back after the time they had been driving.

“Tell me about our mum,” Louis whispers over the shell of Harry's ear. One of his hands rest on Harry's soft hip, and the other one clasps fingers with the boy over Louis’ lap. Harry trembles in his arms, head against his shoulder.

“She is a good cook,” Harry whispers.

Louis hums, “Just like you, huh?”

Harry nods against Louis’ shoulder, “She loves Gem and me so much, always gave us the best after our dad left.”

Louis knows the feeling, tapping his finger against Harry's hip, rubbing right under his sweatpants band.

“She would always rub my tummy when I felt sick, and she knew all my favourite movies.”

“Do you like your tummy being rubbed?”

Harry blushes, nodding hesitantly.

“Can I?” Louis just but breathes, thumbing from his hip over his side. Harry nods again, unsurely, and Louis lets his arm wrap tighter around Harry, hand reaching further past his slim waist. “What does your mum sound like?”

Harry’s shaking stalls to a low thrum, breath evening out as he blinks slowly, “Nice.”

“Nice?” Louis laughs breathlessly, his smile rippling to his eyes in softness. Softness, like Harry’s tummy.

Harry laughs too, “Yeah, nice.”

Louis bites his lip, dipping his thumb into Harry's belly button. Harry shrieks, giggling as he pushes away from Louis a bit, “Stop, it tickles!”

“It tickles?” Louis gasps, eyes widening like he is talking to a toddler. Harry feels the warmth spreading in his tummy again, he also feels another pinch there, and he lets out a fit of giggles, trying to get away.

“Will you two shut up!?” Niall yells from where he is lying down in his seats again.

Louis doesn’t answer, instead circles Harry's little belly button again, pinching at his side to make Harry squeal in laughter.

“God damn it, Louis! I know you’re tickling him,” Louis giggles too, then, ducking down when Niall throws his shoes over the seat.

“Someone’s hungry,” Louis retorts sarcastically.

“Yeah,” Niall starts annoyed, “I am pretty fucking hungry!”

“I am too,” Zayn adds after him, except more in a soft, sudden realisation tone.

Harry nods his head, “Same.”

Louis pouts at Harry, quickly reaching out and grabbing his sides to make him burst into laughter again, making Niall groan louder, and Harry lightly slaps at Louis’ shoulder to make him stop.

“Do you guys wanna pull over at a diner, or just stop at a mini-mart and get some snacks?” Liam asks, looking back at them.

Niall’s the only one to answer, yelling out, “Mini-mart. Need food now.”

Liam looks to Zayn, who shrugs. He shifts lanes to get into the first lane, but he gets cut off by a smaller car.

“Fuck.”

Zayn rubs his thigh, “Hey, don't worry, babe. There’s probably another one up here.”

“No, that was the last one,” Harry says quietly.

Niall groans, falling back and whining further.

Liam runs his hand over his head, “Do you guys wanna turn around or just wait another,” he pauses, “what? 20 minutes?”

“25 actually,” Harry speaks up, and then the natural essence of what he just said dawns on him.

Louis grabs his hand whilst Harry freezes, running his thumb over his knuckles. Liam makes a noncommittal noise in return, and Niall groans louder.

“It's okay,” Louis breathes across Harry's ear, “It’s okay.”

“I hate him,” Harry spits out quietly.

Louis feels a strange anger build in him, “I hate him too.”

Harry looks so mad, he looks angry as he squeezes Louis’ hand tighter.

“I-I don't want to go back,” Harry whispers after a quiet pause.

“H-”

“I don't,” he whispers, tears in his eyes.

“Darling, you-” Louis swallows, “please.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows.

“Please, Harry,” Louis begs in his quietest tone, “I really want to meet your mum. I love you. Please.” Louis doesn’t know why he is begging, or why it hurts to feel like he has to beg, but it does, and it is.

Harry looks away.

It’s silent, Harry refusing to look anywhere but out the window. Louis tightens his grip around his waist, pulling him closer into his side. He splays his hand over Harry’s tummy, not to tickle, just to touch. He rubs soothing circles over the soft skin, pressing loving palms into the folds of skin, gentle touches. He can feel Harry shuddering beneath every soft caress. He leans in, presses his lips to the shell of Harry’s ear, and just breathes. He doesn’t know what he could possibly say to make Harry feel okay at such an overwhelming time as this, but he wants him to know that he’s trying, and thinking, and wanting to make him feel okay. He is.

“Okay,” Harry murmurs softly, "alright."

 

 

**ii.**

It’s not until they are right on the edge of the city of where Harry grew up, that he starts dissolving.

Liam pulls into a mini-mart so they can all get food, and Harry's- he is _shaking_. God, Louis holds him so tight, but he is shaking, shaking, _shaking,_ and trembling like a fault line that doesn’t know better. He is breaking. Louis doesn’t- Harry isn’t breathing, not enough, he is panicking. God, _no_.

Louis pushes the side seat in the middle of the van down as soon as they pull into a spot, squishing Niall's legs as he opens the sliding door and pulls Harry out hastily, ignoring the noise Niall makes.

"C'mon love, we'll get you some strawberry milk, how does that sound?" his voice cracks, and he tries to swallow his own fear.

"Louis, Louis,” Harry says frantically, breathlessly, “he lives in this city. I don't- what if he sees me, oh god,” his chest is actually heaving out, shallow breaths escaping from his teeth, trying to suck them back in as he panics. Louis guides him into the mini-mart with hands tight on him, holding him close, holding him surely, letting him know he’s here.

"Harry I've got you, okay?" He pauses at the counter, "sir, do you have a restroom?"

"Yeah back left," the man looks at Harry concerned, "is he-"

"He's fine," Louis calls back with a reassuring smile, gently guiding Harry to where the man pointed, his hands gripping his waist as he slowly pushes Harry forward. He is gasping for breath, and there aren’t any tears, he’s not _crying_ , but he is panicking and heaving, and that's what scares Louis the most.

The bathroom smells like a bathroom, awful. It's small, and dingy, and just gross. There are mud tracks on the ground, at least Louis assumes its mud, and markings on the wall. The garbage bin is overflowing with bloodied pads and bundled up toilet paper. Toilet paper is everywhere, pieces of it on the floor, stuck to the walls. The toilet is clogged; filled disgustingly full and Louis wants to puke. The sink is muck dirty, rust growing like mould, _mould_  growing like mould, god, it's so disgusting.

Harry stands in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the wall, hands shaking at his sides. His lips are parted, shallow breaths escaping quickly and coming back in just as fast. His eyebrows are furrowed, struggling, struggling, he looks so lost, so vacant. His bottom lip starts trembling.

"Harry?"

"Louis what if he hurts you too?" terror flashes over Harry's face, "Louis I- no. _No._  Louis I don't want him to hurt you, he will, I don't want him to ever touch you Louis, _Louis_ -" he chokes on a sob, tears finally forming in his eyes as he looks desperately at Louis with fear, shaking his head frantically as more rambles of Mark hurting Louis fall from his lips.

“Harry,” Louis starts weakly, “Harry. Haz, he can’t- he isn’t here. We’re okay, Harry, we-”

Harry closes his eyes, shaking his head no, no, _no_.

"Harry,” Louis says desperately, “he doesn’t- he has no idea we are here. Your mum has no idea we are even here, love. We- we’re safe,” Harry bites his lips, eyes squeezed shut as he shakes his head no.

“Harry,” Louis pleads, “we are safe. The boys got me, and they got you, and _I_ got you. Harry,” Louis swallows, lowering his voice, “you're mine, not his. I won’t let him take you, I won't let him ever touch you again. Not ever again, love,”

“I’m so scared,” Harry says, voice fleeting on the ‘so’ and cracking off on the ‘scared,’ his bottom lip shaking. He isn’t leaning into Louis’ touch, isn’t falling into his arms or trying to curl in on him. He is just... there- quivering in his stance and chewing at his lip as more tears escape his eyes, trailing down Louis’ fingers that are still cupping his cheeks.

“You’re okay, baby, you’re alright,” Louis reassures in the tone he knows makes Harry feel safest, moving his thumbs over Harry’s cheekbones, “think about your mum, sweetie, how happy she is going to be when she sees you. You haven’t spoken with her in two days, yeah?” Louis moves one of his hands to wipe away the curls that have fallen in Harry’s face, “she’s going to be so happy. So, so happy. It’d be such a good surprise.”

“I-I- Louis- this is too hard. I’m not- I’m not ready. I-I need more time.”

Louis watches as Harry clenches his eyes closed, trying to block the tears in and everything else out. Louis bites his lip, rubbing his thumbs under Harry’s eyes to rub away the tears that fall from his sealed eyes. “Harry,” he whispers desperately, “please look at me, love.”

Harry opens his eyes, filled to the brim with the salt water tears. Louis tucks Harry's curls away from his face again, cupping his jaw as he looks into Harry's eyes, passed all the fear and sadness, “You can do this,” he whispers, “I know you can do this.”

He leans up and pecks Harry's lips, moving his hands from Harry’s face, down his neck and shoulders and arms, taking hold of his hands and entangling their fingers, “You’re gonna see your mum, Harry. An- and I know that all of this is going too fast, and like, one minute we are just going on a lads holiday, and now- now we are-” Louis swallows, “here.”

Harry looks down, chin wrinkling and eyebrows going taut.

“But we’re going to go see your mummy, Harry. I’m going to meet your mummy,” Louis squeezes Harry’s hands, “And I am going to tell her.... how you… are the most amazing…. person…. I have ever… met.” Louis kisses him softly between his words, rubbing his thumbs over Harry’s knuckles as he does so.

Harry’s smile is small when he lets go of one of Louis’ hands to wipe away his tears, but it's there, and that's enough. Harry is always enough.

Louis shoos at Harry’s hand, using his own hand to wipe at Harry’s damp cheeks. He does so slowly, stopping to caress the soft skin. "So precious, you know that?"

Louis thinks he can feel the heat of Harry's blush transfer to his hands as the boy lets out a quiet hum as a response, sniffling lightly.

"You are. You're so precious," Louis murmurs sadly, "never let anything bad happen to you ever again, okay?"

Harry bites his lip, teeth digging into the pillowy pink, his eyes searching Louis' momentarily, before he nods, unsurely.

Louis gives him a small smile in return, running his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip to get him to stop biting into it. “You’re going to be okay, and I’m going to be okay, yeah?” he says. Harry gives a hesitant nod, his arms still limp at his sides, and Louis smiles, “I love you.”

“Lo’ you too,” Harry mumbles sadly, eyebrows knotted.

Louis doesn’t let Harry see him frown, instead, he leans up, and presses his lips to Harry's again, softly pecking away all the little teeth marks.

“Now,” Louis murmurs against Harry’s lips, “why don't we go get some strawberry milk? Huh?” Louis smiles against Harry’s lips, slipping his hands under Harry’s shirt and rubbing his tummy, “make you feel good? Make me feel good?” he pets over his tummy, circling his belly button and pulling a giggle from Harry's lips.

“C’mon now, love. This place is rank,” he says, laughing when Harry scrunches his nose in agreement.

When they walk out, Liam and Zayn are paying for their stuff, Zayn with a handful of different candy bars, and Liam with a proud smirk. Niall is lounging around the snacks near the bathroom door, and when the bathroom door opens, he snaps his neck to look. It’s obvious that Niall is worried. It's also obvious Harry had been crying.

Niall doesn’t acknowledge the tear tracks on Harry’s cheeks, instead he wraps his arms around his waist, ignoring Louis’ mock glare. “Told ya’ he wouldn’t let you go to the bathroom by yourself.”

Harry snorts, a couple teardrops slipping out of his eyes that were still gathered there. His dimples are showing, though, and both Louis and Niall’s laugh is genuine.

Louis lets go of Harry’s hand to open the glass door to the freezer, rolling his eyes as he grabs a bottle of strawberry milk. “That’s right. I even held his dick whilst he peed and washed his hands for him,” Louis shoves his hand in Niall’s face, “got right up under the nails and everything”

Niall scrunches his nose up, and Louis walks past him to the counter, stopping to pick up a pack of gum. Harry lets out his donkey laugh behind him, and Louis doesn’t even have to look back to know that Harry’s head is thrown back and his eyes are closed. Harry always makes that face when he laughs that laugh.

Yes, Louis thinks, this is my happy boy.

As Harry and Louis check out, their bodies curved toward each other as they look over the cards under the glass, the clerk clears his throat, giving them that look when he gets their attention. They both smile, and Louis bravely tucks his hand in Harry’s, nodding to the clerk reassuringly.

 

*

 

“So, Harry?” Liam says, buckling up and motioning for Zayn to do the same with a small glare and a nod of his head. It seems as if they're the only ones who have actually been going through the trouble to buckle up. “What direction am I headed?”

Louis takes Harry's hand in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze as Harry takes in a deep breath, “After you pull out, you just go down this road here, and at the first light you go left.”

“Okay," Liam replies, hitting the blinker and pulling out of the small parking lot, "thanks, mate.”

Harry nods, rolling off the cap of his strawberry milk, and taking a sip.

Louis watches his throat bob for a moment, before he snakes his arm through Harry’s, linking their arms together. He rests his head on Harry's shoulder, sighing thoughtfully. "Tell me about this place."

Harry pulls the bottle from his lips, turning his head to look down at Louis, “Huh?”

“The good stuff. Tell me the good stuff.”

Harry blinks. A pillow of dust erupts from his eyelashes and glimmers his sight. He inhales deeply, looking around, taking in the old places, and the new places. There are a few shops he has never seen before, and a few old ones that still look just the same. It’s nostalgia, both good and bad. Trips to the small mart at 11:00 at night with Gemma for an ice cream cone, and trips to the small mart at 11:00 at night because there aren’t enough plasters to stop the blood.

 

(There were never enough plasters.)

 

Harry blinks, but it's more of a wince, and looks back down to Louis. He smiles… peacefully. He’s okay.

“I use to work at a bakery,” Harry smiles, his cheek caving in, “the old ladies there flirted with me.”

Louis cocks an eyebrow, lifting his head, his hand curling around Harry’s bicep in mock jealousy. “C’mon,” he says, “tell me about these old ladies.”

Harry laughs, rolling his eyes. Louis opens his mouth a little as he waits for a response, puckering his lips. “Well,” Harry hums out, holding the bottle of strawberry milk up to Louis’ lips and tilting it so he can have a drink, “they liked to pinch my bum, and… they taught me how to make the best muffins.”

Louis chokes on his drink, a snort leaving his sealed lips. He uncurls his arm from Harry's and gracefully shoves it under Harry's bum. “Oh really?” Louis says with a lilt to his voice, “Use to pinch your bum like this?” Louis gives a little pinch to his bum, getting a wrinkled nose from Harry.

“Next?” Liam calls back to them, pulling them from their private talks.

“Oh um,” Harry starts, turning to glare at Louis when he squeezes his bum again, “You just, uh. Keep going until you get to Mickie D’s, then you turn left again, and then it’s a right at the light.”

Liam nods, focusing on the road. “Alright, thanks.”

Harry nods with an appreciative smile, before turning back to Louis.

“What?” he asks with a smile.

“These muffins,” Louis starts, “why haven't they made a guest appearance in my mouth, yet?”

Harry smirks, “I think there are better things to put in your mouth.”

“Harry,” Louis gasps, slapping his chest to chastise him, “being cheeky when we are minutes from your mummy's house.”

Harry laughs loudly, making a smile ripple across Louis’ face in return. Louis can’t even hold back the amount of fondness he feels. He has never felt so fluttery. So at home and fluttery. Harry looks back down at him, shaking his head with his big, sloppy grin, and Louis has to kiss it.

And he does.

“Are you nervous?” he whispers against his boy's lips.

“About seeing my mum?” Harry replies, pulling away.

“Yeah.”

“No, she’s a good mum, understanding and that,” Harry smiles, “are you nervous?”

Louis inhales. “Yeah,” he exhales.

Harry pats his thigh, squeezing it lightly with a reassuring smile.

"I lo-"

"Alright H, where to now?" Zayn calls back for Liam, turning back to look at him.

Harry looks up from Louis, meeting Zayn's eyes, and then looking out the window.

Louis knows that the rest of them don't notice, but he does. The small sound of Harry's breath hitching, the way his body barrels in on itself, bones freezing as he heart pump, pumps, pumps louder.

"Uhm," he starts, voice thick, "after this right turn, you, uh... you go past the- past the- the flat complex," Harry closes his eyes, breathing in deeply.

Louis bites his lip, feeling Harry grab at his hand desperately, pulling it into his lap and holding it with both of his hands. Louis let's him, leaning closer to Harry's body to let him know he's there. He's always there.

"You just- just take a left and keep going down the street till you get to a, uh, a gravel road. ‘s’at that end of it, little brick house."

Liam eyes him from the rear-view mirror, giving him a reassuring smile. Zayn gives him the same look, thanking him for the directions. Niall turns around, glancing at Louis. Louis frowns, just barely, and it’s enough for them to know.

“So, we almost there, then?” Niall says after a beat of silence. Louis loves Niall, he does.

Harry exhales, a smile breaking over his previously rigid face, “Yeah.”

Louis squeezes his hand, before sitting up straighter. “Oh no,” he starts, wanting to distract Harry, “how do I look?”

“Y-”

Louis pulls his bottom lip between his teeth only to let it go, forming into a pout. “I can’t meet your mum in sweatpants, Harold,” he lets the hand that was squeezing Harry’s hand rest on his knee instead, squeezing there too.

Niall joins in. “Holy shit, Louis,” he starts, “you really do look like fucking shit.”

Louis’ worried expression deadpans, glaring at Niall. “Gee, Niall, thanks.”

Niall winks in return, snorting in his palm, and then ducking when Louis reaches over the van seat to slap him upside the head.

Harry rolls his eyes fondly, and he knows what Louis’ doing, he does.

Louis’ upper body is hanging over the row of seats in front of him as he punches Niall lightly, getting more and more frustrated when all the blonde boy does is laugh in response. Harry smirks to himself, carefully moving his hands to Louis’ sides, and then slipping his fingers into the band of his sweats and pants, yanking them down.

Louis squeals- fucking _squeals_ \- and quickly sits down, covering his bits with his hand. Liam furrows his eyebrows, looking back at them in the mirror, and Niall leans over the side of the seats to see- _oh_.

Niall cackles. Face turning a darker shade of red as he starts clapping. His mouth is open, and eyes closed, and no real sound is actually falling from his lips, but his chest is shaking, and no, Louis thinks, this is so _not_  fair.

“Harry,” he whines, shimmying the fabric back up his bare hips.

“Well you said-”

Niall breathes in heavily, only to start laughing all over again, except this time Louis can hear it and it makes him want to punch him even harder.

“-you didn’t want to meet her in your sweatpants.”

Louis glares, crossing his arms, “I’m going to tell your mummy just how naughty of a boy she has.”

Harry flushes, dimples indenting as he smiles cheekily at Louis. The ground beneath the van turns from pavement to gravel, noticeable in feel and sound, bits of dust flying up around the windows.

Niall scrambles to sit in the middle so he can look between the passenger and driver seat, as if seeing Harry’s mum’s house is the most exciting thing to happen. Louis rolls his eyes, and instead of looking out the window he looks at Harry. He chokes on a breath to see Harry already looking at him, his previous smirk turned into a soft smile.

Louis bites his lip, and Harry smiles. “You're about to meet my mum.”

It's not even a whisper, more of a breath than anything, and Louis’ playful attitude melts as he takes Harry’s hand in his own once again.

“You’re about to see your mum, Harry,” Louis whispers, nose crinkled in happiness.

It's blur from then on out. Niall gets out of the van, and then Zayn and Liam. Louis kisses Harry, soft and gentle and there, cradling his face like it's the most precious thing in the world, pushing every ounce of courage he has into the beautiful boy. Then they’re walking to the front door, and Harry’s breathing is rougher, hands shaking, _god_ , it's been too long.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?”

“Yes,” he chokes out, “god yes, Lou.”

Harry’s hand forms a fist; one heavy breath, two small knocks.

The vague obscurities happen so fast. A woman with long dark hair and big, bright eyes opens the door. There is a puddle of water beside the porch, the hose is turned off, but it's obvious that someone had been watering the flowers. There is a bigger puddle formed between the woman and Harry, tears pooling in their eyes, dripping from their cheeks. There is the distant sound of city sounds blaring, a loud noise of thumping and ringing around them.

Louis knows that the woman gasped beforehand, eyes widening in the comical way Harry’s do, before she pulled her boy into her arms. Their breaths are shallow, sobs quiet. Bitten lips, smacking kisses, and skin breaking under fingernails. The woman's head fits perfectly in the junction of Harry’s shoulder and neck, tears bubbling on the end of her long lashes, yeah, this is Harry's mum. So obvious in the shape of her structure.

She pulls away, her nose is red just like Harry’s is, another similarity. She cups her boy's cheek, eyes shiny and frown evident. “Why’d you knock?” she tries to say humorously, but it sounds more like a sob, “You know you just walk right in.”

It's so impactful, the way Harry’s face crumples and he lets out a small sob, pulling his mum back into his arms. Sobbing, sobbing, he keeps sobbing about how much he missed her, how much he missed his mummy. It’s the most tangible form of the feeling of someone squeezing your heart between the cleanest of fingernails, it’s like lavender breaths and really, really hot summer days. God, Harry’s eyebrows are so furrowed, eyes so closed, it looks _painful_. So much pain. His mummy, he loves her. He missed her, still does.

It’s all so fast whilst simultaneously slow, the step by step event of a good heartbreak. So big, so small; it’s a bubble, encased in all that you know, and all that there is, so small in your own reality, yet bursting at the seams.

It’s all of this and all of that, up until she is squeezing her baby boys little cheeks, wiping away all the water tracks as if she had grown to know how and never forgot. “C’mon now, get in the house,” she says, mock stern in her watery smile, she looks to the rest of them, fond look of curiosity and just utter motherliness, “you bunch too, c’mon.”

She ushers them to the living room, watching Harry in such disbelief. Her baby boy. He has grown so much, he has.

“I'll make us all tea, yeah?” she says, sniffling happy as she wipes at her cheeks.

“I’ll help mum,” Harry says, biting at his trembling lip.

“No, no,” she says, lightly, before a laugh of disbelief flutters from her lips, “I just need to make sure that- that this is real, you're really here. Bit scared I’m going crazy.”

Niall chuckles at that, patting Harry on the back.

She turns to walk to the kitchen, stopping and turning around to look at her boy. She makes a sound, _that_ sound. That motherly sound all mums make in specific moments.

“She seems really nice, H,” Niall says, sitting on the ground, “see where you get your looks from.”

Harry laughs watery, (“Stupidly,” he would call it. “Cutely,” Louis would correct) and Louis groans, rolling his eyes. It makes Harry laugh even more, stupidly, cutely, and more tears fall down his cheeks.

Louis pouts happily at his boyfriend, not even fretting the fact that they are at Harry's childhood house, and that his mum is here. He is meeting Harry’s mum. She could walk in at any moment.

He doesn't care though, because stroking his thumb over the wet rounds of the blushing flesh on Harry's face is the most important thing. He cups his face gently in his palms, leaning up to place a soft, lingering kiss. “S’good. Everything's good,” he reassures quietly, searching Harry’s watery eyes. He looks _happy_. “Let’s sit down, yeah?”

They sit on the couch, Louis resting against the arm of the couch and Harry curling up beside him, tucking his feet to the side of his bum. Louis can't help but to notice how at home Harry looks, and how at homes it feels to be here. The overwhelming smell of Harry surrounding him, like it's a piece of him he’ll never lose. Louis finds that _choking_. He never knew he wanted a house full of the scent of Harry and him, that everyone knows is them, swirling in the air. He wants Harry to seep into his pores, wants to carry his gentle smell in his hair. Wants a strand of Harry’s hair stuck to his shirt because he didn’t lint roll it first. He doesn't _want_  to lint roll a shirt that has Harry on it.

Harry isn't curled into his side, like he normally would be, but he is curled up beside him, pressing his body much too close to Louis’ for it to be seen as just friendly. Harry grabs Louis’ hand, locking their fingers together and putting them both on his lap. Louis feels so giddy, so happy and giddy. Harry is so open in his home with his mummy and it's sort of whelming. He isn’t trying to hide himself, or Louis, or anything. Louis feels so light.

“‘m meeting your mum, Haz,” he whispers, smile unbelievably large as Harry laughs, sniffling quietly as he tightens his fingers in between Louis’.

Liam and Zayn sit beside each other on the loveseat, Zayn spreading his legs open so Niall can lean against the couch in between his legs.

It’s quiet when Harry’s mum enters again, hearts loud, and her smile playing like keys on a piano. She has a bunch of tea cups rung on her fingers by their loops. In her other hand, she holds a silver teapot, warm steam coming from the end of it. She bites her lip, passing the cups around, taking glances at Harry and shaking her head in disbelief. She wipes her hands over her sides when she is done passing out cups, something Harry does too when he has finished something, and she doesn't even blink at how close Louis and her baby boy are.

“If you’d like any sugar or cream, it's in the kitchen.”

Niall immediately stumbles up, completely unphased by the fact he is in a strangers house, and walks through the doorway Harry’s mum walked from, mumbling something like, ‘ _Thank god, I need something sweet_.’

Liam and Zayn blush for Niall’s sake, red blooming from second-hand embarrassment of their mate. Harry’s mum simply laughs, sitting down in what looks like a very used reclining chair. It makes a squeaking noise, and Harry makes a small hum in his throat.

She pours herself a cup of tea, and then sets the pot on the table, scooting it towards the other boys.

Liam takes the pot handle with a smile and a small, “thank you.”

She smiles fondly, eyebrows furrowing in a kind way, “Course, darling.”

Liam only smiles bigger, and he carefully fills Zayn’s cup up as well as his own.

“My baby,” she starts, “nearly gave me a heart attack when I saw your head of curls again,” she sniffles, obviously not trying to cry again as she brings the cup of tea to her lips. Harry sniffles too, much louder though, and he rubs the back of his hand into his eye. Louis grins, not even trying to hold back the ridiculous grin that spreads across his face as he squeezes his boy's hand, staring at him intently.

Harry glances to Louis, a happy whimper leaving his lips as he glances away quickly, blushing such a deep red that Louis coos quietly, making Harry's mum laugh. Harry blushes even deeper, letting go of Louis’ hand to reach over and grab the teapot.

“Harry, doll,” his mum starts, “aren’t you going to introduce me to the boys I just let in?” she glances down to where Harry had just taken Louis’ hand back in his (he also poured Louis’ tea for him, and puckered his lips out as a way to kiss Louis without actually touching his lips to his.)

“I'm Niall!” Niall interrupts before a proper blush can even spread across Harry’s face, “'s'alright Curly, I can introduce myself,” he adds, looking to Harry with a confirming gaze. He sits his cup of honey and cream on the table, before extending his hand to the woman.

“Hello dear. I’m Anne,” she takes Niall’s hand with a cocked eyebrow, glancing to Harry with a large smile. “S’lovely to meet you. Quite lively, you are,” she tacks on, “tea’s over there, by the way, love,” she says, pointing out the teapot for the boy.

Liam sighs under his breath, watching as Niall winks - _winks_ \- and pours himself a glass. Anne simply laughs at the boy’s charm, watching as he sits back on the ground. Zayn nudges his knees into his back instead of spreading them like before, making Niall squeal and slosh his tea.

"Would you watch it, Z?” Niall rolls his eyes, “that's Zayn, awful, awful Zayn. He is broody cause he’s gonna be an art major.” Niall makes a face, and Louis can’t help but to laugh under his breath.

“An Art major? Well doesn’t that sound exciting!” Anne’s eyes light up, just like how Harry’s eyes do, a smile spreading across her gentle cheeks.

Zayn smiles humbly, “Yeah, it’s cool. I’m a part of an art showing at the end of August.”

Anne raises an eyebrow, “Well isn’t that lovely, what kind of art do you do?” she tilts her head as she talks, but what Louis really notices is the way a new kind of heat is radiating off of Harry. A comfortable heat that's making Louis buzz from the tips of his fingers. He isn’t supposed to feel this good, feel this comfortable. He should feel nervous, anxiety pulsing from his toes to his ears, he isn’t supposed to feel this at _home_. But God, he does, he really fucking does.

Before Zayn can speak, Niall is interrupting again, “You’ll have to come and find out,” he adds another wink for more persuasion and Anne throws her head back laughing even harder than last time, and it's just like Harry. Harry is a beautiful replica of his beautiful mummy. Louis feels so nice here. So warm.

She looks to Liam, “And who are you, love?”

“I’m Liam, and thank you for the tea,” he smiles gently, taking a sip.

Anne throws her hand up, “No need to thank me, dear. And I might as well ask, are you also in college?”

“Yes. I am studying to become a general nurse for now, and I am still deciding about whether or not I will transfer to a medical school to get a higher degree.”

Anne nods, eyebrows lined, “Yeah, that's a tough decision. Quite a lot of schooling in medical practise. ‘spose it's worth it though, with all the potential money.”

Liam nods, eyebrows raised. His throat bobs as he gulps down the tea.

“Oh,” Niall interrupts, making a ‘pfffting’ noise, “I’m at uni to be a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” Anne asks, crossing her legs and sitting back, “That's an awful amount of years too.”

Niall groans, “Trust me, I know. I’m trying to cut it down a year by doing the easier classes over the summer and online, but either way it’s still gonna be a long trip.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re going to be a great lawyer, you’ve certainly got the drive.”

“Why thank you ma’am, everyone else thinks I’ll be awful,” he pauses, “well not Louis. He’s the only who gots faith in me,” Niall fake cries into his shirt, and honestly, Niall is the most naturally comfortable person, so laid-back and unphased.

“Louis?” Anne asks, she turns, “is that you?”

“That’s me,” Louis answers, shy smile.

She glances back down to their entangled fingers. Louis’ tummy twists nervously.

“Are you also in school?”

He nods, “I want to become a teacher.”

Anne makes a small noise, a pleased one, beaming, “What do you plan on teaching?”

“I grew up watching over my little sisters,” Louis pauses, shrugging with a smile, “so I want to teach the itty bitties.”

Anne coos, tilting her head, “That's lovely.”

“It is,” Harry speaks up, “this is his last year, too!”

“Aw, that's great!” Anne’s face softens, moulding fondness as she looks between the two, “Louis the teacher,” she sighs softly, looking to her son, “and Harry the chef. My little chef.”

Harry blushes, ducking his head as he dimples.

“He makes the best,” Louis starts, not even noticing what Anne had hinted at, eyes widening, “What is it called? The weird French word-”

“Meringue,” Harry smiles softly, raising an eyebrow to Louis and making him roll his eyes. Harry’s cheeks are still pink, and he leans his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“You and your fancy French desserts,” he squeezes Harry's hand, grinning at his boy, “Anyway, he makes the best mint-chocolate meringue pies.”

Anne’s eyes are glossy, face soft as she tilts her head. Zayn, Liam, and Niall are smirking, watching the two interact, oblivious to how disgustingly in love they are.

“I have never had the privilege to try one of his meringue pies,” Anne says sweetly, her eyes flicking to watch the way Louis looks at her son.

“I just learned how to make them this past year,” Harry tells his mum, “must’ve forgot to tell you on the phone.”

Anne hums, sipping her tea, “Well I guess this just means you can’t run off for as long as you did, that way I can try one,” she flashes him a stern look, that quickly fades to a smile that makes Harry blush. “What brought you here anyway? You didn't even tell me! I would have cleaned up a bit, prepared a surprise party, something for you!”

“We were on a guy’s holiday,” Niall shrugs, “and all of our parents were getting together for Zayn's art show and this one,” Niall points, “said you wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“Also said he needs his mummy hugs and kisses,” Liam adds sophisticatedly.

“Yes, he does need his mummy hugs,” Anne coos like she is talking to a baby, making Harry blush further, “and what do you mean by not being able to make it, Harry? I didn’t even know.”

Louis thinks he can hear the faint noise of Niall screaming in his head ‘ _Oh shit_.’

“He’s just a worry-wart, is all,” Louis smiles, bringing Harry's hand up to kiss his knuckles, “he didn’t want to make you drive all that way, and we’re in the midst of moving so the flats are a disaster and I’ll say now, they won’t be ready by the art show so we won’t have a room for you to stay in,” Louis fake frowns, “and then of course he was worried about introducing his boyfriend to his lovely mum.” Louis ‘tsks,’ lolling his head to Harry with a small smile. He can feel Harry pressing the ‘thank you’s’ into his palm from where their hands are linked.

“Worried about-” Anne scoffs, “nonsense. He has no reason to be worried about that. The only thing I want to know is why he didn’t mention he had a boyfriend.”

Harry turns deep red, and his mum continues, “How dare you hide a handsome man like this from me?”

Louis tries not to glance at Zayn when he snorts into Liam's shoulder.

“Sorry mummy.”

Louis’ eyes widen as he looks to Anne with an ‘aw’ slipping through his lips.

“You should be,” she says firmly, before breaking into a smile, “now come give me another hug. I can't believe you’re actually here. You’ve gotten so handsome yourself.” She murmurs it like she’s been thinking it since he got here, just waiting for the right time to let the words slip out.

Harry squeezes Louis’ hand, before stumbling up and going to his mummy. He takes her tea and sets it down, and then awkwardly plops down in her lap, curling into her like a baby.

“When was the last time you got a haircut? Look at how long these curls are.” Anne wraps her finger around a strand of his hair, tugging it lightly.

Louis ‘aw’s’ again, quickly plunging his hand into his pockets and digging for his cell phone. He quickly clicks the camera app.

Niall sees Louis holding his phone up, and quickly yells, “Say cheese, Curly!”

Louis ends up with a photo of Harry pouting, arms crossed over his chest, his mum kissing the top of his curly head.  

“Aw, you look even cuter.”

Anne smiles as Louis takes another picture, nimble fingers holding the phone steady. Anne glances, looking over his green nails.

“Your nails are painted,” she says to Louis, smiling curiously.

“Yeah, Harry did ‘em. He did mine too,” Niall holds his nails up so Anne can see, “Irish pride. Best place in the world, I tell ya’.”

“Well isn't that nice,” Anne smiles, picking up her son's hand and looking at his nails. She rubs her thumb over them, bring his hand up so she can kiss each finger.

“Gemma is going to be excited you made an appearance.”

“Gemma?” Niall asks blatantly.

“That's Harry's sister,” Louis chimes in, watching Harry lay silently in his mums lap. He is smiling at Louis, with this look, this look that Louis reads so easily. He feels happy. He is seeing his mum, and he is _happy_.  So, so _happy_.

After two more tear-filled moments, a bunch of embarrassing stories on Harry’s part, and a pot of tea, Anne is kissing her baby’s head and pushing him from her lap.

Harry clings to his mummy, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and placing his chin on top of her head.

“Louis, dear, would you mind helping me clean up?” she asks softly, sinking back into her sons touch.

“I can, mum.”

Anne rolls her eyes with a stupid grin, craning her neck to look at her son, “I do believe I asked Louis.”

“And Louis would love to help,” Louis chimes in third person. He sticks his tongue out at Harry, getting a disgruntled noise in return from his boyfriend.

He quickly stands, helping pick up the tea cups and the different sugars and creams Niall eventually just brought out from the kitchen. He wonders if it's like, an Irish thing not to feel anxiety over anything. Anne takes the teapot and the napkins that held their biscuits. Louis waits for her to turn around before he taps Harry’s bum, making the boy squeak then glare.

“Louis,” he whispers, cheeks beet red.

Louis winks in return, before following Anne to the kitchen.

There is a small swoop in his tummy, pieces of fear floating in his mind now that he is alone with Anne. She seems sweet, seems like she likes him, but he never knows. He’s just so nervous, never having cared so much about someone.

Anne turns the faucet on the sink and starts scrubbing at the dishes with suds and water. Louis takes them from her with a bite in his lip, rinsing them under the water and then putting them on the drainer. He knows what this part is. He does.

“So,” Anne starts quietly, “you’re the boy who stole my son's heart?”

It’s so gentle, so soft; sweet and thought through. Louis can tell he is talking to Harry’s mummy.

He laughs softly, blushing, “I am.”

Anne looks to him with a raised eyebrow, “You’re quite confident about that.”

“Confident in our relationship,” Louis corrects with a toothy grin and a raised eyebrow.

Anne smiles, picking up the next cup to wash. “Have you been together long, then?”

“We’ve been friends for nearly a year, but, um, we’ve only been together, maybe, 7 months?” Louis guesses.

She nods in return, listening intently.

“But I fell in love with him long before we started dating.”

Anne bites her lip at that, trying to hold back her grin, “So you love him?”

“Absolutely,” he comments immediately, “more than anything.”

“Good,” Anne says. She inhales deeply, frowning, “he has a fragile heart.”

“I know, Anne. I take good care of him, and he takes just as good care of me.”

The woman's face softens, lips curving up, “Then I am happy you have each other.”

“Me too,” he bites his lip, letting the words slip out, “he’s definitely the one.”

That’s it. Louis can feel the car crashing, his body flinging from the metaphorical window, smashing the glass. There is no time to finish the punchline, no time for a rewind or a dial up. It’s over, there are flames everywhere and he is burning, _literally_. Cheeks bright red as he blinks; blinks again and again, did he just- _oh_  god.

Anne has stopped washing the dishes, and Louis feels his bottom lip tremble. He just told his boyfriend's mother that they haven't even known each other an entire year, and that he also wants to marry him. God damn it. He just- his head is spinning, fucking twirling, he literally can’t believe he has only known Harry about a year. It feels so much longer, feels like forever. And it's just- it's _shocking_.

He racks his mind for an explanation, something to glide over the drying pavement. He never went to a class on the criteria of meeting your boyfriend's parents, doesn’t know if confessing the thought of marriage to them is a good or bad thing.

The mental breakdown is settling in his stomach. His mind so foggy that all the tears pool there, making his tummy cramp and twist. _Jesus_ , he thinks to himself. He wants to thrash, can feel the ickiness spreading around him, but- _oh_. Arms are wrapping around him, a shoulder tucked into his neck. Anne is hugging him so tightly, so, _so_ tightly.

“I knew something had changed in my baby,” her voice trembles, “I could hear it in his voice however many months ago, ‘just sounded so happy one day.”

Louis gasps for a breath, his arms snaking around his boyfriend's mum. His- _his_ future mum, hopefully.

“I don't know what happened to him, he never told me,” she cries quietly, tears relentless on such an emotional day, “I just know one day he was here, and the next he is sobbing about the break up and leaving.”

The break u- _oh_. Louis swallows, squeezing the woman tighter. He wants to sob too, wants to cry to her about how much worse it really was, how he had to run away, leave.

“I don't want to know what happened, I just- I trust that you can love my son right.”

Louis feels tears form in his eyes. He _can_ , and he will. Love him best he can, love him extra on the days he needs it. Love him so good, so fucking right, he will.

“I will,” he murmurs, voice cracking, “I will. I promise you, I will.”

Anne sniffles, pulling from the embrace and cradling Louis’ face. She leans in, kisses his nose. “You better,” she says, sighing afterwards, “and you really are a handsome young man.”

Louis snorts happily, letting the couple of tears streak down his cheek.

(When they walk back to the living room, Anne is holding Louis’ hand, murmuring to him small ‘thank you’s’ that no one else hears. She pats his chest softly before letting him go back to Harry. Harry, who is trying to hold in his joy, his _happiness_.

“You three,” she says, pointing to Niall, Liam, and Zayn, “Would you like to help me prepare an early dinner?”

“Mu-”

“And no, Harry. You cannot help,” she gives him a stern look, “I won’t get any of the good details if you two are there.”

Niall’s eyes light up, “Oh, Anne,” he starts, “I have so much to tell you about these two. So much.”

Zayn snickers, smirking at Louis who groans, a blushing Harry hiding his face in Louis’ neck.

*

“This you?” Louis murmurs, thumb softly rubbing at the frame of the photo. Harry’s hand is tucked into Louis’, so clingy, so loving, and so happy. Louis wants this forever.

“Don’t make fun,” Harry says shyly, “s’me and my funky socks.”

Louis’ heart doubles in his chest, eyes crinkling at the photo. Harry and his little overall shorts like he was telling him about. They’re red, a white shirt beneath them, his sleeves cuffed below his shoulders. His grin is splitting his face, big dimples and even bigger eyes. His curls are awkward and wavy, short on his tilted back head. His thighs are milky and white, knees scraped and so boyish. Beneath them, a long pair of striped socks. Darker blue with light blue stripes, and a pair of tan brogues on his little feet. In his hand, hanging down his side, the stuffed bunny Harry also told him about. He’s perfect. Young, and beautiful, and clean. He’s happy. Genuinely _happy_.  The only owies he has are skinned knees and elbows, and no one has tried spreading his thighs with intentions of taking pieces of him away without permission. He’s _whole_.

“You’re so adorable,” he says. His voice is light and lilted, fondness wrapping his tummy.

Harry smiles, eyebrows furrowing in a mixture of emotions.

Before he can say anything, Louis speaks, “Do you have a copy of this photo, one I can have?”

Harry’s smile only grows, his eyebrows smoothing out, “you like it that much?”

“I love it,” he murmurs softly, just for Harry’s ears, “I love you.”

Harry makes a noise, a little squeak from his throat, and leans down to press his lips to Louis’, firm and perfect and there.

“You can have that one,” he murmurs against his lips, pecking softly, “my mum has extras somewhere, you get that one.”

Louis smiles, pressing his lips harder against his boy's, smiling pecks and nibbles and kisses. Harry licks his bottom lip, opening his mouth, and Louis giggles, pulling away.

“Harry Styles,” he says, “are you trying to slip me tongue in your mother's house?”

Harry whines. “Lou,” he murmurs, leaning in and kissing his lips again, “she’s busy, kiss me.”

Louis giggles, clutching the photo to his chest, and pulling away from Harry. “Not here,” he murmurs, placing a soft, lingering kiss to Harry’s lips, “not in the hallway.”

Harry grabs Louis’ wrist, tugging on it gently.

“Harry,” Louis laughs, “let me finish looking.”

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry groans.

Louis rolls his eyes, looking at the photos on the wall, “If you think I’m blowing you in your mother's house you are so wrong.”

“Wha-”

“Who’s this cutie?” Louis smirks, pointing to a photo, “he looks kinda grumpy.”

Harry pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m shocked, you love baths now,” Louis says, looking at the grumpy little Harry with soap suds rubbed through his curls. His arms are crossed and bottom lip pushed out, same face in the picture that he has now.

“You're ridiculous,” Louis mutters finally, “now show me to your old bedroom. I’m in dire need to see how my adolescent boyfriend's room was.”

Harry agrees to that, tangling his fingers with Louis’ and dragging him down the hall. The wooden door is blank, and Harry opens it and drags Louis in, shutting the door behind him. He quickly shoves Louis against the wall, kisses him hard, teeth clacking, and lips bruising. Louis snorts, wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and gives in, lets the boy kiss him rough and wet, not stopping until they’re both breathless.

“Please,” Harry whispers, pressing his forehead to Louis’.

Louis opens his eyes and sees blue walls, baby blue walls, with a darker shade of blue for a strip at the top. The curtains match the dark blue, opened to allow light in through the window. There is a small bed, a simple black duvet, with a couple of pillows that have mismatched linens. There are awards over the walls, things for best student in cooking class, and a few trophies for track, student of the year, and other achievements. Its clean, clean and obviously a bit empty compared to what it would be, but it's where Harry use to live. Simple and little Harry.

Harry groans at the lack of response from Louis, and grabs his chin, forcing the boy's eyes to meet his. He looks down to Louis’ lips, biting down on his own gently, “Please,” he murmurs again.

Louis’ still holding the photo of little Harry. It's pressed behind Harry’s back and he clutches it, scared he will drop it and ruin the pretty frame. He can feel Harry’s breath hitting his face, and most of all his semi-hard length that is grinding into his thigh. Harry is such a little minx, desperate to be played with.

“Harry,” Louis says, “not in your mums house, jesus chr-”

 

Harry growls, kissing Louis hard again. He pulls him from the wall, turning them around and then shoving Louis to his bed. Louis lands with an ‘unf,’ the photo still safe in his hand. He’s panting, one foot planted on the bed and the other laid out, head on the pillow. Harry is stepping closer, putting one of his hands on the mattress and getting ready to crawl on top of Louis when-

“Harry,” Anne says, opening his door. Harry jumps back, putting his hands behind his back and standing straight. His cheeks are flushed red and his eyes are wide.

Louis snorts, throwing his head back and laughing into Harry's old pillow.

“I don’t care how old you are, when you have boys in your room in my house, you leave the door open,” she says it sternly, eyebrows raised, and Harry simply nods, murmuring a ‘yes, mummy.’ She glances to Louis, smirking at him as he continues to laugh, shaking her head. “I just came in here to tell you dinner is ready, but I can see you two were already eating each other.”

Louis snorts again, wheezing as his face turns red from lack of oxygen. He can’t stop laughing, not even embarrassed because how can he be? When Harry’s face is a dark red, and Anne is so chill and fun, laughing with him at her son's expression.

She gives one last smug look before walking away, calling out behind her, “Don’t be too long.”

*

Dinner is simply barbecued hamburgers. Louis almost immediately knows that it was probably Niall who decided on that, because he loves barbecuing. Their last normal summer before heading off to uni, he held a barbecue for his boys. His only request was to bring random food items. He ended up with a few fires, and a few great treasures, trying to barbecue all the random foods. So _okay._

They all gather around the farmer table, rectangular woodtop, small maps of scratches and marker stains. Louis smiles, taking out his phone and taking a picture of Harry’s signature on one of the ends, both ‘r’s backwards, letters completely lopsided. It's so cute, makes Louis’ heart jump and flip and squeeze, _god_ ; he can’t stop thinking about a little Harry with little chubby fingers, holding a blue crayon too tightly, little tongue poking out as he colours on the table. Small curls, and small dimples, and big, green eyes.

Anne watches him do it, take the picture, whilst the other boys make their hamburgers and pile chips on their plates. She sees his little smile, the way his eyes light up, pointer finger tracing the letters. She also sees her son, holding his plate at the counter, waiting for the other boys to get their chips, watching Louis. She sees his smile, the way he bites his lip and blinks his eyes, dimples caving in on his pink cheeks.

Harry’s hand finds his knee under the table as he finishes off his chips. It's obvious, it _is,_ with the way Louis’ face lights up, eyes brighter, straightening up. They all make comfortable conversation, tons of snorts and laughs, and Niall spitting his food out from laughing too hard. It makes Liam groan and Zayn snicker and Anne laugh until there are tears in her eyes. Niall is cute. Cute and endearing and everyone loves him, no matter what. He chews with his mouth open, talks with food in his mouth, but it's okay with him, because he strangely makes it look adorable and boyish and perfect. All of their mothers loved Niall from the beginning, only accepting any type of rude behaviour from him and him alone.

Louis places his hand on top of Harry’s, squeezing it lightly. They’re all talking, and laughing, and arguing like this giant family, so comfortable with each other already. It’s so easy, Louis thinks, being here with his mates, and his boyfriend, holding his hand that is on his thigh under the table, right in front of his mum who his smiling and joking along with the boys. Everything with Harry is easy though, he just slips right into his life like there was an opening there for him the entire time.

*

“So, how long are you staying, Harry?” Anne asks, and the question was bound to be asked eventually. Harry looks to Louis, and Louis looks to Liam, because Liam has the keys, and Liam drove them, and because Harry shouldn’t be the one who tells his mum he has to leave early in the morning. He showed up, and then he’s gone. Harry shouldn’t have to say it, he shouldn’t.

“Oh, um,” Liam clears his throat, “a couple of us work on Tuesday, so we’re going to have to leave, uh, tomorrow.”

Anne bites her lip, holding in her frown. “I guess if I ever want to see you again in the next two years I’ll have to go to Zayn's art show, huh?”

“I would love if you could go,” Zayn blurts out, “I invited you, I mean. I really do want you to come.”

Anne smiles, head tilted, “Of course I’ll come, love. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, you seem like a very talented artist,” she clears her throat, looking to Louis and Harry, “and as long as these two keep me informed,” she raises a stern eyebrow, but all Harry and Louis do is grin, keying in on the fact that she referred to both of them, “I’ll be there.”

“Anyone you want to bring can come too,” Zayn adds.

Harry’s eyebrows raise, “Oh,” he says quickly, “how’s Robin?”

Anne smiles, “He’s great. We’re great, um,” she pauses, wiping her mouth with her napkin, “we’re discussing him moving in here with me.”

Harry beams, and he can feel Louis pressing his smile into his cheek.

“He can come then,” Zayn says, “be lovely to meet him, actually.”

*

After dinner, everyone becomes a bit sluggish. Long day of driving, and chatting, and now full bellies in a warm and comfy home, it’s inevitable. Zayn and Liam curl up on the couch together, taking the warm blanket Anne offered them and cuddling together under it. Anne already gave them the message on how lovely the two looked together, cooing with Niall over them.

Niall who is currently laid out on the comfy carpet, arms behind his head as he chats easily with Anne. It’s weird, really, how easily the two get on.

*

Harry takes Louis from the group, though, insists on showing him more of the house. At first it was an excuse to get him alone, kiss him hard and deep and breathless. He needs it, needs the feeling of Louis pressed close to him, needs the high from his lips to make him feel buzzed, make everything so surreal, so heavenly.

Louis sees the photo album, and Harry doesn't get his deep and breathless kisses. Louis flips through the album, photos of Harry at the lake, patches of baby fat and dimples wide. There are ones of him and Gemma, fighting and cuddling and laughing, it’s perfect. Each flip of a page is another page of watching Harry grow up. From eight to twelve to fifteen. Every birthday cake and awkward haircut. Pictures of Harry with family members, old friends, _him_.

Louis sees the picture, and he doesn’t need Harry to tell him who it is. He knows, can tell. The man's arm is wrapped around Harry’s waist, nails digging into his hip. Harry looks so frozen, yeah it’s a fucking _picture_ , but everything about him looks wrong; tense, scared. He can see it, the stiffness in his smile, the dullness in his eyes, the way only one dimple is showing up. There’s a bruise, on the side of his face, his wrists, on his hip, where Marks nails are tucked under his shirt and scraping the softness. Louis wants to puke, wants to puke, and yell, and burn the photos. He wants to burn a lot, break a lot, ruin a lot. Most of all, he wants to hold Harry.

He does. Neither of them say anything, they both know. Louis closes the photo album, presses his back to the frame of Harry’s bed from where they’re sitting on the floor, and pulls Harry to sit in the bowl of his crossed legs. His hands wrap around Harry’s back, fingers gently rubbing the spot on his hip where nails were previously. Harry lays his head on Louis’ shoulder, his bum fitting between Louis’ crossed legs, and his own legs laying over one of Louis’ thighs. Louis kisses his cheek, peppers it with love and gentleness, covering the expanse of his face in light presses of his mouths, mouthing small ‘love you’s,’ holding him, always holding.

Louis reaches over, pulling the box full of Harry’s old stuff towards them. Looking inside, he finds a white stuffed animal, a bunny. He smiles softly, gently grabbing its paw and pulling it from the box. It’s stained and patched and obviously treasured. He’s careful when he rubs over one of its little ears. He gently places it on Harry’s tummy, taking its head softly and pretending that it is kissing his tummy, all the way up to his face, where Louis makes the little stuffed animal pepper Harry’s face in kisses. It makes him giggle, giving the bunny a little kiss and then pushing it away to kiss Louis too.

There’s a cough, and they both look up to see Anne in the doorway. She’s smiling, tired and smiling, so wide, so happy, eyes shining. “‘M going to bed,” she murmurs, “so c’mere and give me kisses goodnight.”

Harry unfolds himself from Louis’ lap, biting his lip when he feels Louis’ hands gripping his hips, helping him stand. He turns, offering Louis a hand and helping him stand.

Anne smiles fondly, opening her arms and pulling her son into her arms. “I love you so much, baby,” she murmurs into his neck.

“Lo’ you too, mum.”

“So good to hold you again, give you kissies,” she says, pulling back and giving her boy a big kiss to his forehead.

Harry smiles, pulling his mum back in, squeezing her tight.

When he pulls away, Anne looks to Louis. “You too, c’mere.”

Louis blushes, heart squirming as he steps into the woman’s arms, letting her hold him tight.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, “and sleep well, love.”

“You too,” he murmurs back, rubbing the woman's back softly, before pulling away and stepping back next to Harry.

She turns to leave with a final smile, walking down the landing to her room, calling out, “And boys, don’t be too loud.”

*

They lay in Harry’s small bed, pressed close to each other, sharing small kisses and private words; lingering touches and soft laughs. They’re so in love it’s impossible, they did it though, god have they done it.

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs. He’s watching his fingers that are softly tracing Louis’ collarbones, “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Louis bites his lip, watching Harry’s lips, “Do anything for you, Harry,” he murmurs, “‘s'bit terrifying.”

Harry swallows. “I really love you.”

“Good,” Louis whispers, moving his head forward just enough to rub his lips against Harry’s, “because I really love you too.”

*

Louis inhales, the fresh and homely smell of Harry surrounding him. He feels shuffling, then a pair of warm lips against his forehead. He frowns, and forces his eyes to blink open.

“Go back to bed, love” he hears. He closes his eyes and rubs the sleep from them. He lets out a small groan.

“Shh, its okay,” Harry murmurs to him, brushing his fringe away from his face, “gonna go make everyone breakfast.”

Louis licks his chapped lips, and opens his eyes to see his boy, sleep ruffled and so, so cute. “Can I help?” he asks, voice rough.

“You can sleep, love. It’s okay,” Harry reassures. He’s pulling up his sweatpants to cover his bum, tying the drawstring.

“No, no,” Louis mumbles, clearing his throat, “I wanna help,” he yawns, “if that’s okay.”

Harry grins, “Of course it is.”

*

Harry rummages through the kitchen like mapped out memory on the back of his hand. He pulls out flour and milk and baking soda, some more powders and oil. He grabs a bowl and a whisk, and Louis simply watches dumbly as he mixes all the right amounts of things into the bowl.

“Wanna whisk it for me, babe?”

Louis hums out a reply, taking the handle of the whisk and taking over for his boyfriend, stirring the mixture as Harry pulls out a pan and plates and silverware. When Harry turns back to him, he snorts.

“What?” Louis asks with a playful glare.

“You’re awful,” Harry laughs, “How do you not know how to whisk properly?”

“Whisk properly?” Louis says in offence, smiling nonetheless, “I think I’m whisking quite proper, yeah?”

“Absolutely not,” Harry shakes his head, “everything's wrong, here, give it to me.”

Louis’ mouth drops, and he pulls the bowl tight to his chest. “No, I wanna whisk it.”

“At least let me help you then,” Harry mutters, “for the sake of the pancakes.”

Louis glares, huffing out a heavy breath. “Fine. Show me how to do it, Gordon Ramsay.”

Harry snorts again, shaking his head as he simply wraps his arms around Louis and presses his chest to his back. He wraps his hand around Louis’, the other taking hold of the other side of the bowl.

“First of all,” he murmurs against Louis’ neck, “you whisk it, not _stir_  it.”

Louis rolls his eyes, leaning back against Harry’s chest. He tilts his head back, turning it to place soft kisses to Harry’s jaw.

“You're not even watching,” Harry laughs, turning his head to meet Louis’ eyes.

Louis just smiles, pressing his lips to Harry’s. His smile grows when Harry’s hand stops moving, and he chooses to focus on kissing him instead.

Anne watches fondly from the doorway, having too much of a heart to get her morning tea and break the boys bubble.

*

The morning is filled with butter, syrup, and racked up sobs. Harry doesn’t want to let go of his mummy, doesn’t want to say goodbye again. Anne’s eyes are filled with tears, her lips pressing gentle kisses to Harry’s face, soft murmurs of. “M’gonna see you in a few weeks,” and “don’t worry dear,” and “I love you too, so much.”

Leaving is the hard part, the part that hurts more than any other. It happens in a blur, one minute they’re enjoying pancakes and the next they’re packing in the van and none of them really remember the transition. It’s just so much, too much, but a good too much. The best type of heartbreak there is.

Louis has to pull him away, or more so, it’s like a trade-off. Harry moves from Anne’s arms to Louis’, quiet tears falling from his red eyes. He kisses reassurance onto his lips, gentle thumbs wiping at the water dripping from his eyes. “I love you baby, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Niall’s the last in the van, first slipping Anne his number and kissing her cheek.

Louis thinks there might be a few tears in his eyes, too.

*

"Your mum was quite the catch,” Niall says once they’re out of the city, “can’t wait to see her again.”

“Niall, she’s taken,” Louis says, running his fingertips over Harrys jaw, “and will you stop hitting on mums.”

Niall groans, “I wasn’t hitting on her, she’s cool,” Niall says in defence, “y’know, like one of those cool aunts that slips you extra candy when you’re little, and then lets you try alcohol.”

Harry snorts, laughing as he wipes the tears from his cheeks.

“I’m really excited that she is coming to my art show,” Zayn turns in the passenger seat to look through the middle, “She’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you got some mummy hugs and kisses,” Liam winks with a small smile, and that just happens to remind Louis of a picture he had taken. He takes his phone out, looking at his background.

Harry groans. “Louis,” he whines, “delete that.”

“You know you love it,” he pinches one of Harry's cheek, only making the boy pout more.

“You're just gagging for your picture to be taken, aren’t you?” Louis smirks, watching Harry blush and look away with the tiniest of smiles.

Louis leans down to his ear, “I’m so proud of you,” he whispers for just him to hear, “he will never touch you again. You’re invincible, babe.”

*

“Wake the fuck up, lovebirds.”

The voice is Irish, and it’s close.

“Louis, I will spit in your ear if you don't open your eyes right now.”

He groans, rolling over an- _ugh_.

Niall's laugh filters through the van, making a sleepy Harry turn and look over the edge of the seat, giggling when he sees Louis on the van floor.

“Fucking twat,” he mumbles under his breath, eyes closing.

“Hey, I wanted to let you two sleep cause it was actually quiet,” Niall snickers again, “but it's like, two already. And Anne slipped us all sandwiches.”

Niall winks and leans over to ruffle Harry’s curls, before he is leaving the van, giving the two a moment alone.

They are stopped at a small field on the side of the road. There are no fences surrounding it, just open land along one of the many back roads that lead back to home. The first thing that hits Louis about where they are, is how much hotter it seems to be.

“S’it hot to you?” he asks, taking Harry’s hand to help himself up.

“A bit, yeah.”

“M’gonna put some shorts on,” Louis says, reaching for his bag in the back and sifting for his basketball shorts.

“Will you get me a pair too?” Harry asks, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. He looks so tired.

“Not sleep good?” Louis asks, grabbing another pair.

“Not really.”

He frowns, “Were you, um, scared?”

Harry nods with that what-can-you-do-look.

“‘m sorry baby,” Louis starts, “you could have woken me up. I would have helped.”

Harry laughs and shakes his head as Louis throws a pair of baggy shorts to him. “S’fine Lou. I went and talked to my mum a bit.”

Louis looks to see if any of the boys are near, but is reassured to see that they’re all sitting on the ground, rummaging through the bag Anne had given them.

“Oh, she was up too, then?” Louis asks, rolling down his sweats, and then after a moment’s thought, his pants too. Harry watches instead of changing, biting his lip.

“No, I crawled in bed with her and woke her up, cuddled a bit, talked plenty about you,” Harry laughs, “going commando?”

“S’right, free-balling today,” Louis smirks, “and you talked about me?”

Harry blushes, “Um yeah,” he bites his lip, looking out the window, “is it safe for me to… y’know?”

Louis smiles gently, moving to sit closer to Harry and to block him from sight just in case one of the boys stands up. Harry lifts his hips, and slides his sweats down. He is wearing white cotton panties, the only detail is a little bow on the top centre. Louis smiles, rubbing his thumb over the teenie bow and meeting Harry’s eyes to see him smiling back.

“What did you guys say about me?” Louis asks, sadly watching as Harry pulls the shorts up.

“Let’s go get some food and maybe I’ll tell you.”

*

“Better have left sandwiches for us,” Louis warns, grabbing the bag from Niall once he’s out of the van. There is two sandwiches left, one PB&J and the other looks like salami. He picks the salami, knowing Harry isn’t much of a PB&J fan. He also grabs two bottles of soda, not even being able to remember when the last time he had a soda was. His life is now more like a mixture of strawberry milk, and smoothies, and tea, and detox waters with lemons and oranges and mint leaves. He prefers it that way, really.

Niall finishes his sandwich in practically a bite, before he is getting to his knees and looking around the field for god knows what. There is a multi-coloured bunny, pretty and soft, perched on a patch of the dirt that is in the midst of the field. It’s nibbling on a small flower, and Niall whispers to himself. “I’m going to catch it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis murmurs to himself, turning from the blond boy.

“I think there is some more food in the back somewhere,” Liam says, mostly to himself, and he gets up to go rummage through the trunk of the van. Zayn gets up too, except he goes to the front, pulling out his sketchpad and his pack of cigs.

Harry is by Louis’ side, taking one of the sodas from his hands and grinning. “Direct me to the best seat in the house!”

Louis can’t help his inner 13 year old boy, and he points to his crotch.

Harry snorts, shaking his head as he follows Louis. They walk away from where the group are, not too far, but far enough so they can be by themselves. Louis plops down with a groan, watching Niall creep up on the bunny

“Are bunnies deadly?” he asks.

“Monty Python bunny is.”

Louis laughs, calling out to him, “We’ll not risk another frontal assault! That rabbit's dynamite!”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Give me that sandwich, ‘m hungry.”

“Aw poor baby,” Louis opens the plastic bag it’s in, pulling half of it out, “c’mon open your mouth, here comes the chew-chew- train.”

Harry looks at him blankly, before grabbing the bag from his other hand, “Ha!”

“That’s cheating!”

Harry just shrugs at him, spinning the top off his soda. “Haven't had one of these in a while.”

“Same,” Louis starts, chewing his food quietly, “stopped drinking ‘em when I started hanging out with you. Made me healthy ‘n all.”

“You’ll thank me,” Harry smirks, taking a sip.

“Like it?”

Harrys shrugs, “S’alright, not use to the carbonation.”

Louis wrinkles his nose, before, “So, are you gonna tell me what your mummy said about me?”

Harry bites his lip, smirking.

“Aw c’mon, does your mum love me? Am I good enough for her baby boy?” He knows Anne adores him, but all he wants is to hear Harry say it to him.

Harry can’t help but to grin, dimples caving in and eyes lightened as he nods, “You know she adores you.”

Louis cocks an eyebrow, “Yeah, well what did you guys _say_  about me, c’moonn.”

“Bit self-obsessed, are we?” Harry murmurs, tearing off a piece of the bread and pushing it between his lips.

Louis pouts, stealing Harry’s soda.

Harry rolls his eyes, “I just talked about _you_ , Lou.”

Louis sighs, obviously not satisfied with the answer but he smiles nonetheless.

Harry notices and groans, “Do you really wanna know what I told her?”

Louis nods quickly. “Obviously.”

“I told her,” Harry starts, smirking, “that you have the stinkiest feet, and are a terrible cook, and the absolute messiest person I have ever met.”

Louis mockingly gasps, throwing his hand over his heart and he tries to talk with an american-southern accent, “I cannot believe you would say such appalling things about me.”

Harry snickers, stealing his soda back and taking a sip.

*

(It's two in the morning and Harry is crawling into his mummy’s bed. He shifts under the duvet, carefully moving closer to her, and pokes at her shoulder. “Mummy?”

Anne makes a small noise, stirring awake.

“Mum?”

She slowly sits up, eyes squinted as she reaches for the bedside lamp, flicking it on. It’s a dim light that barely fills the room, a soft yellow glow. When she sees Harry, she feels herself tear up, looking at her son. She quickly sits up against the headboard, smiling.

“You remind me of when you were little and would get nightmares” she feels the tears slip out and Harry smiles at her from where his head's in the pillows. He shifts, moving so his head is placed in her lap, staring up at his mummy.

“I never thought I’d ever see you sneaking in here again at night.”

“You don't hate me, do you?” he asks shyly, feeling sad as he watches his mum wipe at her cheeks.

“Of course not, baby,” she scratches behind his ear, frowning, “I didn’t want you to ever leave, especially not for that long,” she twirls a finger around one of Harry’s curls, “but I had to trust that you knew what was best for yourself.”

Harry bites his lip, eyebrows furrowing.

Anne sniffles, “You’ve gotten so big, baby.”

“Stop it mum, gonna make me cry again,” Harry croaks, turning his head into her lap.

She laughs quietly, wiping her hands over his cheeks, “How have you been, Harry? _Really?_ ”

“Been good, mum.”

Anne rolls her eyes, pinching his ear, “You can’t lie to me.”

Harry's eyes widen, “I’m not lying!”

Anne sighs, tilting her head, “I know. I just want you to tell me how good things have been. Wanna hear you talk and see your handsome face,” she starts to tear up again, and Harry frowns.

 

“It’s been good, really,” he insists, “after I graduate uni I want to rent out this place over on the corner where the elementary school is. Gonna have my own bakery.”

Anne grins, “You’re gonna do so great,” she starts, “and the elementary school?”

Harry blushes, “Yeah, because maybe after school kids can sto-”

Anne rolls her eyes, putting her finger to his lips, “I told you you can’t lie to me.”

Harry laughs, looking away with pink cheeks.

“It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, “he has already been speaking with the headmasters. They said that they are opening a day-care and he can run that, and then when a teaching job opens up he gets first call for it. They really like him.”

Anne smiles softly. “And so do you?”

Harry blushes even darker, nodding shyly. “A lot.”

“Why did you keep him hidden away from me? He seems like such a sweet boy. How many others did’ya you keep hidden from me?”

“That’s it.”

Anne tilts her head, nodding cautiously. “Do you love him? Love him the way you loved Mark?”

Harry wants to puke. He doesn't ever want to think he could have loved _him_ , not ever. Because he didn’t, not in the way he loves Louis. He has never felt the way he feels for Louis with anyone else. “So much more,” he whispers.

Anne bites her lip, grinning. “Really?”

Harry fills so sick, thinking that Louis is being compared to Mark. Louis’ better. Louis will always be better. “I love him so much, mum. More than anything.”

“He loves you too.” Anne says, grinning down at Harry, “it’s easy to tell.”

“I know,” Harry grins.

Anne laughs, “So he’s good to you then?”

“Better,” Harry says seriously, “he has been so good to me.”

“Tell me about him, dear.”

“He’s so sweet,” he starts, “he once went and bought every ‘get well soon’ card from Hallmark and read them all out loud to me when I wasn’t feeling well.”

Anne laughs and Harry continues, “And if I don't want to reach for the remote he doesn’t mind doing it, and he always holds my hand when we are in public.”

Harry’s mum smiles happily, “Really?”

Harry nods joyfully, like he is lost as he stares at the ceiling, thinking about Louis.

“It’s so easy being with him,” he shakes his head, “It feels like I’ve known him forever.”

Anne leans down and kisses Harrys forehead, “I’m glad he’s good to you, baby. That's what you deserve.”

Harry looks to her. “He makes me feel so good, mum. Always makes me feel special and safe and loved. He just- he makes me so speechless, mummy. So speechless.”

He meets his mum’s eyes, and sees tears filling her eyes, a wide smile covering her face.

Harry sighs, warmth filling his tummy, “tell me about Robin.")

*

“You know I only told her good things. Besides, is there even a bad thing to say about you?”

Harry expects a smirk, maybe a snort, but instead Louis is blushing, looking down.

“You really don't think there is any bad things about me? Not even my horrendous foot odour?”

Harry laughs, “Your feet are the worst,” he says, nose crinkling up, “but that’s why I love them, and I wouldn’t want them or you any other way.”

Louis squeaks, overwhelming amounts of butterflies filling his body, and he can’t help but to practically attack Harry, jumping on him, kissing him breathless. “When did you become a bigger sap than me,” he mumbles against Harry’s lips, “also, are you hiding a foot fetish from me?”

Harry snorts against Louis’ mouth, his own mouth falling wide open, loud laughter spilling from his mouth, and Louis still tries to kiss him, the resonance of his giggles making his body feel warm. Harry manages to push Louis off of him, and he sits back up with flushed cheeks and a dazed smile.

“Heey,” he says when he looks to his soda, “you split it.”

“Want mine?” Louis offers with a smirk, handing over the still unopened can.

Harry stops, thinking for a moment, before shaking his head, “Not that great, to be honest.”

Louis rolls his eyes, “God, I love you.”

*

Niall is still trying to catch the bunny, rearing up on it until it jumps a few more feet ahead of him. Liam is following him with his arms crossed, snickering every time the bunny hops another five feet away.

“Would you stop it?” Niall starts, “you’re scaring it away!”

“You’re the one trying to catch it!”

*

Meanwhile, Zayn is sketching the field, long lines of grass, sweeps of pencil marks and eraser smudges. After he gets part of it done, he sighs, because he isn’t seeing this field in any ‘new light,’ it’s a sodding field for godsake, and he has never even been here before.

He looks to Liam and Niall, about to put his sketch book away and join his boyfriend in bothering the blond, but then he glances to Louis and Harry.

He finds himself frozen, fingers itching. Louis is tucking a small daisy behind Harry’s ear, both of them smiling at each other. Dimples are caved in Harry’s cheeks and crinkles by Louis’ eyes. They’re both leaning in toward each other, legs crossed

Seeing things in a new light.

  
  


**iii.**

(Liam drops Harry and Louis off first, all of them tired and restless. It’s around 8 o’clock, and they shuffle into their flat, flicking the lights on.

“I’ll check how the fish is doing,” Louis calls out, rubbing at his tired eyes and dumping all of his bags on the living room floor. He quickly walks into the kitchen, checking to see how the little fish is doing. They had bought a filter for the bowl after discovering that goldfish really do shit practically every other minute, so Louis doesn't have to worry about cleaning his little bowl tank. The little guy is swimming happily though, still having a bit of his vacation food bar left. Louis dips his finger in, despite knowing that Harry hates when he does it. “Don't worry lil guy, we’re home.”

He finds himself laughing after that, sort of feeling like a sappy parent. He is a sappy parent, and Harry is his sappy spouse.

“Why are you laughing?” Harry asks, turning the corner and opening the fridge to pull out his strawberry milk.

“I just told our fish not worry cause we’re home now. I feel like a sappy parent.”

Harry raises an eyebrow with a small smile, leaving the strawberry milk out on the counter after taking a sip of it. He steps toward the fishbowl. “See, we’re both here, love. No more being alone,” he coos to the goldfish.

Louis smiles, “See, you’re my sappy husband.”

Harry chokes, staring wide eyed at Louis and Louis just - _whoops._

“Louis Tomlinson, I swear to god,” Harry’s eyes are wide and his smile is even wider, his words cutting Louis’ thoughts off, “this better not be the way you're proposing to me.”

Louis laughs, loud and carefree, so fucking _relieved._ So, so happy. Perfect and happy and home.

“You wound me Harry Styles, the ring is in the fish.”

Harry’s mouth falls even further open, but he is still smiling nevertheless as he stares at Louis, who is snickering. “And to think I was going to pour you a glass of milk,” he shakes his head, giving Louis a teasing glare before stalking off to their room.

Louis laughs harder, putting the strawberry milk back in the fridge, flicking the lights off, and following Harry into the bedroom. Harry’s sipping his strawberry milk, setting his phone on its charger. When he sees Louis, he shakes his head, smiling.

Louis rolls his eyes, taking his shirt off, and then stripping himself of his shorts. He sighs, falling against the bed looking to Harry, who is probably texting his mum and telling her they got back safely. Harry sets his phone and his glass of milk down, before he’s turning to Louis and pulling off his shorts and panties in one go. He makes a face at Louis, “Stop scratching your balls.”

Louis snorts, lolling his head toward Harry, removing his hand from his crotch, “Did you really think that that's how I would propose to you? Even after how much of a sap you know I am?”

Harry strips his shirt off, yawning quietly before walking across the room to turn the light off. “I never know what to expect with you,” he says finally. He shuffles under their blankets, resting his head on Louis’ chest as he lets out a content, tired sigh.

“You still would have said yes,” Louis says, smile evident in his voice. He brings his hand up to play with Harry's hair.

It’s quiet, and it makes Louis’ heart pound in his chest.

“Yeah, I would have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you sooo much for reading my honey bunches of oats :-)
> 
> [tumblr](http://wankerville.tumblr.com/)  
> snapchat: wankerville


	5. and in that moment i knew you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't forget there is a second sequel after this one !! there's a special author note thanking everyone at the end of the last lil sequel, just so you all know, bc i really want you guys to see how thankful i am. lots of love xx :-)
> 
> snapchat/tumblr: wankerville

**i.**

Morning starts with dust in his eyes and wet lips decorating his bare thighs. Louis sighs into his pillow, turns his face into the soft plush of it, and inhales the delicious scent of Harry as he smiles bonelessly but oh so happily. He turns his face back out, feels his boy's lips trailing higher and higher, hands kneading his bum, and he lets out a small moan, arching his back as he feels a hot mouth press against the junction between where the rounds of his bum meet the bottom of his thighs.

The early morning sunlight filters through the pink curtains, creating a warm illumination across the soft edges of the cornered room. It’s so hazy- content and hazy and that is how Louis feels; mind dazed as he feels thumbs edging his cheeks apart, hot breath grazing his skin, making it horripilate and send shivers right down his spine to Harry’s lips. Harry’s lips that are pressing teasing kisses to his tight hole, making the muscle flutter, and also making Louis’ eyelashes do the same, a high pitched and beautiful giggle falling from his lips for no reason other than that he feels really fucking happy right now. Content, really. If he could choose any moment in time to press pause on, it would be this one. Where it's all soft edges and glazed eyes. Content, perfect.

Neither of them speak. They say everything that needs to be said through subtle brushes of skin, and little sighs; the intentional placing of hands into skin, into sheets, into mangled shudders that are so intangible that they feel them, sinking, sinking, oh god.

It’s so gentle, everything. The little touches Harry spreads across him, making his heart swell just as much as his dick. Louis’ so in love, he is, and Harry gets him intoxicated like no other. Makes the world fuzzy and light and perfect, especially in these moments. These soft moments in the morning when they just touch and kiss and love each other, so delicious, so gentle, like they've finally slowed the earth's spin simply by existing so close to one another.

Harry’s tongue circles his fluttering hole, trailing hot licks between his bum cheeks and up to the bottom of his spine. Louis arches his back, feeling Harry’s warm hands trail from his arse to his hips to his waist, palms soft against his incitement skin, kissing higher, higher, higher until he’s up to Louis’ neck and the tips of his hair tickle Harry's nose. He kisses wetly to his ear, breathes hotly over his neck, his cheek, Louis’ head pressed into the pillow, slack-faced with upturned lips.

Harry's hips straddle Louis' arse, and he grinds down, slowly, making Louis rut into the sheets- making him really feel it- and out comes a fluttery moan. Harry bites at his ear, sucking on his lobe gently before releasing it.

“Morning,” he whispers, hand on Louis’ waist tightening.

Louis hums, “You can continue.”

He does, starts to suck wine-coloured blotches into the golden flesh, little nibbles leading back to his ear, biting softly one last time before breathing heavily, “Sorry, gotta head to work,” and Louis feels that stupid smirk pressing into his skin, “and you have to wash the holiday clothes.”

"Harry," Louis whines, digging his face into his pillow and groaning loudly.

Harry snickers above him, slinging his leg over and getting off of Louis and the bed, "You always say that's your favourite way to wake up."

"Yeah," Louis drags out into the pillow, "when it leads to us getting off."

"I did get off," Harry laughs, raising his eyebrows, "you're the one still just lying there."

Louis turns his head so he can look at Harry, all dressed for the library in his tight jeans and button up shirt, a special addition to the outfit tucked into the front of his pants awkwardly, and god, does Louis wish he could take care of that. He squints up at Harry, pouty lips and all, "Get out of here and take that awful cheek with you."

Harry snorts.

The night before was spent in bed, tired mumbles of, "Babe, just take tomorrow off," and, "We literally just got back, you need to rest," and his most convincing one, "I'll give you blowjobs all day."

And despite Harry desperately loving the idea of being sucked boneless from Louis' pretty lips and watching his dainty hands work his cock, he still presses his toothpaste fresh kiss to Louis' pouting lips and leaves the flat, calling behind him a "please do up the dirty laundry."

The excruciating process of dealing with his hard dick comes first, ha. Getting off on his own has become a thing of the past, so rubbing one off on the mattress feels more like eating day old French fries; they’re good, but they’re not hot and greasy with an abundance of salty goodness, and c'mon, who even _has_ leftover fries? Who doesn't eat all their fries? "Harry fucking Styles," Louis moans as he ruts his hips into the mattress. That's who.

After waking up in his dried fucking spunk, he bonelessly drags himself from their bed and pulls the sheets off. He throws their dirties onto their bags from the trip, an empty laundry basket placed conveniently- also suspiciously- right next to them. There is a note on the tea cupboard telling Louis to ‘please, do the laundry babe. please.’ and he rolls his eyes, tearing it off and crumpling it in his fist. He’s not going to forget again, his boy needs to have a little more faith in him.

He ends up stretched on the couch, still naked, still having not done the laundry, still having not done a damn thing except make his tea and grab his laptop.

Laundry is the last thing on his mind at this point. Because there’s this one thing that has been floating through Louis’ mind as of late. Something pretty and delicate, a gentle kind of braveness that makes Louis feel that one feeling. That feeling like when you watch someone catch something they didn't think they’d catch and their face lights up in this self-proudness. It's overwhelming. Overwhelming to the extent of utter cold sweats, and hot sweats, and burning love that makes it all drizzle back in in a sugared sweetness. Harry is a walking, running, leaping example of better things to come.

Louis spends almost three hours on his laptop looking at lingerie. And okay, he was going to do the 'nice dinner' thing instead. Take Harry out for Thai food and sit under the dim, golden lights; watch Harry's eyes shine and sparkle, reach across the table, take his hand in his own, and say, “I’m glad I belong to you, and I’m even gladder you are starting to belong to yourself again.”

But whilst on the restaurant's website he sees an ad for lingerie, and before he can tell himself not to, he is clicking it. The website is a mix of pink and white, soft and delicate like smooth glass over fragile lace. The background of the white page is a shade of pink that resembles chapped lips on a winter day, and you can select items through fabrics, colours, shape, size, type, and appeal. Louis' heart feels just a bit strangled.

If you told him a year ago that he would soon be so in love it would bring tears to his eyes, he’d laugh in your face. Now though, Harry is the main occupant to his mind, almost like a more conscious subconscious. He pours himself a glass of strawberry milk, and he pours Harry a glass too, buys himself a new toothbrush and he gets Harry one too, except with soft bristles since his teeth are much more sensitive. He puts his course schedule together to match Harry's as closely as possible. He use to go through thrift shops looking for band t-shirts, but now it's for band shirts and the weird hipster trinkets Harry's obsessed with. It's even down to the simplest of things, like when he needs to go get a quart of buttermilk and finds it to be habit to pick up a bag of the Orange Circus Peanuts. It's the type of routine you want to never forget, one you want to live forever.

Louis buys six items from the lingerie store. Six pretty and lovely items for Harry that will arrive in a neat little box with a customised note, and Louis feels so giddy over it that he makes a small noise and shakes his naked bum in a little dance. He can't wipe the grin from his face, not even as he continues browsing the web for something else he can do for his boy. There's dinner ideas, more dinner ideas, and mostly just dinner ideas- Harry's the master chef though, definitely not Louis. There are movie ideas, with actor themes, or genre themes, but really, they spend 80% of their time watching TV together. Board games- Louis thinks they might own monopoly, but he isn't going to risk their relationship. None of the ideas sound romantic or sensual, good enough, really.

He's on his 11th list, most of the ideas repeating itself, when a picture of a fancy bathtub shows up, bubbles everywhere with candles sitting on the side of the tub. It looks so relaxing, definitely romantic and definitely sensual.

So he mouses over the link but-

-but he has to swallow the acidic guilt that bubbles in his throat before he can click it.

His stomach lurches, tongue pressed between the sharps of his teeth. He reads over different mixtures, eyes flickering from pictures to captions and over the benefits of each one. There is a lot that pours through his mind, a constant, static, buzz of Harry and only Harry. Harry this, and that, and what if.  

And then there is them. Them as a whole, but still completely two. There are so many more connections to make, more synapses to reconstruct, bridges to burn, and highways to tear, and rivers to block. He still thinks about it, being able to walk up behind Harry, wrap his arms around his waist and whisper into his ear. He wants to be able to move without thought, like weeds growing in a crack, and chapped kisses to a throat that is still asleep.

He has a list of things he wants to do with Harry, with the sole purpose of it just being about them, together.

Louis wants to try something.

First sweats, then a t-shirt, then his vans. It's a quick motion of arms and fabric, tossing all the dirty laundry into the crossed basket. His stomach is in knots, tumbling in on itself whilst he drags the basket down the hall to the laundry room. He quickly shoves everything into an extra-large washing machine, and buys the goods. He mixes the soap and sprinkles in the detergent and makes his run down the stairs, taking two steps a time.

He jogs the block, takes a left, and gets to the local store. It feels dangerous, almost, when he grabs the gallon of milk and tub of honey. Feels like he’s either going to strike the chord and produce a tuned melody or an unorganised tune of scared breaths. He reminds himself that this doesn't relate to _that_. There are quarter candles, and he's picking up a bundle of slightly wilted pink roses, and this has not a damn thing to do with anything other than them.

Before he takes the newly bought items back to the flat, he checks their laundry, finding that it is still on cycle and mumbling a ‘thanks’ to himself and ignoring the other person in the room who is eyeing him with amuse.

He stumbles into the flat with a sigh, kicking his shoes off into the hallway and nudging the bathroom door open with his hip. It’s a delicate risk, dropping your heart on the doorstep of someone with lipstick smeared up their neck in the colour of blood mixed into dark wine. He gathers all of Harry’s body washes from the side of the tub, and tucks them all safely under the sink in the cabinet, spitting out repugnant from between broken teeth, falling slack to dainty deducing. This is for Harry, and for himself, and for them. Just… _them_. Just... Louis’ inability to not praise the efforts in his illustriousness. If Louis could give Harry a star, he would take Harry’s hand and place it in his other hand, wrapping them around each other.

(There are romantic gestures and there are comforting gestures and Louis never knows which way they'll be taken.)

Unnerving is what it is, with the elements he’s messing with. This is either a plus one or a minus one, and he can't bear the thought of setting Harry back, making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. It is just something he wants to be able to do, so small and simple but invasive. Crowding someone's space, candles and honey and skin against skin, it’s not supposed to burn but- but it _could_ , because after they bruise their skin they try and say they'll never do it again as they kiss over the spots, candles burning and dead flowers piling in the dumpster. He hasn't had time to rub the dead spots out of Harry’s shoulders and from between his thighs. This is so big, bigger than the both of them, in spite of giggles clinging to sticky skin, water splashing against faces is all it takes to stop breathing. It’s such a fine line Louis is walking; playing with vulnerability and the hot spots that settle beneath fingertips.

His fingers play with the faucet, edging only the heated temperature on. Once the cool water has turned to burning, he puts the plug in. He lets the water run, and goes back to the laundry room to check on their laundry. It's a quick glance and then back to the flat. The bathroom is already filled with light steam and warmth that tugs on the hairs on his skin.

Wiping his forehead, he grabs the tub of honey, spins the cap off of it, and holds it under the faucet that is spewing hot water, allowing it to overflow the honey and dump out into the tub. Despite how hot the water is, he quickly plunges his hand into it. It is all slick and sweet, and he mixes the honey so it matches in fluid consistency and doesn't leave the bottom of the tub slimy.

Next he grabs the gallon of milk, uncapping it and slowly pouring it into the steamy bath. The water turns to cream, lovely and milky just like Harry’s pretty skin in winter time. The milk cools the water a bit, enough for Louis to stick his hand back in and to let his fingers run over the floor of the tub, mixing everything slowly and thoroughly.

Whilst waiting for the tub to fill up to a good mark, though, he takes the bundle of pink roses and pulls out the prettiest one, setting it aside on the counter. He takes the rest of them and pulls out the petals, carefully sprinkling them into the water to add the blush that rounds Harry's cheek in the winter to match his creamy skin. It makes Louis bite his lip, wondering between which intervals was it that he had done such good it made the line curve and send him to Harry.

Once the tub is filled just below normal, he goes back to the laundry room to find that the wash is done. He piles them all into different dryers, quickly putting them all on high heat. Whilst the clothes dry, Louis sets the few quarter candles out onto the counter, and also placing a few in the corners of the bath rim. He uses the lighter he bought for Harry’s cake a while back to light each small candle, pausing briefly to admire the light glow, the softness.

He unpacks their bags, puts away their toothbrushes and half empty bottles of lube, and shakes their couple pairs of shoes out on the balcony to rid them of the beach sand.

Harry's alert ringtone breaches the soft vibe of the room, and Louis checks his phone to see a message from Harry.

 

 _on my way home;)_  

 

Louis can't help but to roll his eyes at his boyfriend, making his way back to the laundry room.

The clothes aren't nearly dry enough, so he puts on the dryer lock and flips it to slow heat, that way he knows they won’t be done for a much longer time and Harry and he can enjoy their time together.

When he gets back to the flat he places his shoes he kicked off in the hallway by the door to please Harry, and cleans up his tea cups. He gets clean sheets and a duvet from the cupboard and makes their bed up, tucking the corners in and fluffing their unmatched pillows just because. Whilst in the bedroom, he strips himself of his sweats and t-shirt, pulling out a fresh rolling stones t-shirt, and an old pair of Harry's pants before he started wearing just panties. They're even tighter on his bum, hug his hips and thighs and are the perfect length shorter. They make him look so much fuller, hotter.

He returns to the bathroom, sighing at how pretty it looks and feels and _is_. Soft glow like melted chocolate over hearts, beating so fast it makes time slow down, a dim pounding. Louis inhales softly, turning the faucet on once more to add hot water to the tub, filling it so it finally reaches the halfway mark. The pink rose petals are still floating peacefully through the gentle white water, swirling slowly together, and Louis can't resist from skimming his fingers over the edge of the water.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Louis’ heart lurches, and he pulls his fingertips from the water. He breathes deeply, wiping his hand on his shirt before taking hand of the single rose he left out. He grips it firmly between his fingers, trying to hold in his soft smile, and his soft feelings, and trying to figure out why he feels so soft right now anyway.

“How was work, love?” he asks, stepping out from the bathroom, the rose tucked carefully in his hands behind his back.                        

Harry jumps in surprise from where he is entering the kitchen, quickly snorting at himself and shaking his head. "Fuck Lou, snuck up on me.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, a small chuckle leaving his lips. If he wasn't so busy being soft and in love, he may have noticed how Harry didn't panic at the sudden burst. Maybe being in love feels even better than that.

Harry smiles softly, head tilting as he just _stares_  at Louis for a moment. “Work was good, yeah,” he clears his throat, setting his bag on the ground, “I talked with my therapist for a bit whilst book scanning in the back, and I told him about our holiday.”

“Yeah, what did he say?”

Harry smiles, looking down. “He says,” he starts, like he has been reciting the words in his head, “that this weekend was a big step for me, and it's really impressive that I managed so well,” Harry lifts his head and steps closer to Louis, “and um- he says he still wants to talk to you, and that he thinks I should try and put some more, um, body soap away.”

Louis bites his lip, small smile covering his face, “So it was good?”

Harry grins, wrapping Louis into his arms and breathing into his neck. Louis returns the embrace, loosely wrapping his arms around Harry's waist. He can feel Harry breathing against his neck, small sniffs and then a nibble and he can't help but to snort.

“You gonna eat me?” he jokes quietly, head on Harry's shoulder, swaying softly in the middle of the room together in the gentle hug.

Harry hums, “Y'smell so good righ’now.”

Louis snorts, “I smell like sweat and come, you dork.”

“Mhm,” Harry sniffs exaggeratedly, "so good."

"You disgust me," Louis says, shaking his head with laughter when Harry's hands drop to his arse to squeeze each cheek, "absolutely filthy, you are."

Harry simply laughs lightly, pulling his head back to capture Louis' lip in a soft kiss. He opens his eyes as Louis sucks gently on his bottom lip, mumbling awkwardly, "I see you've started the laundry."

Louis hums, trailing his lips down Harry's jaw to his neck, "Would've been done, but I was busy."

"Busy?"

Louis pulls back to look at Harry, raising his eyebrows. He unwraps an arm from around Harry's waist, pushing the small, pink flower towards Harry's chest with a shy smile. Harry’s eyes flutter, glossing over with a thick adoration, his smile wide and pretty. He stops groping Louis’ bum to take hold of the rose, holding it carefully between his fingers like it's the prettiest and fragilest thing there is. “S’this for?” he asks, voice suddenly shy and cheeks flushed.

He brings his hands to Harry’s hips, rubbing his thumbs under his shirt to press them against his skin. “It's for you,” he says softly, smile wide but gentle as he pets at Harry’s skin. “S’not all there is,” he adds.

Harry bites his lip, red and happy, twirling the rose between his fingers, “Yeah?”

“C’mon,” Louis says, firstly taking the rose from Harry's fingers and tucking it behind Harry's ear. He watches him for a moment, moving his hands to cup Harry's cheeks.

It’s so soft- them. He drops his hands from Harry's face, one falling to his hip where he hooks his finger through Harry's belt loop, tugging with a playful smile, and dragging him to the bathroom.

“Louis,” Harry giggles softly, before stepping into the bathroom. The giggles fall short with a small gasp, “Louis?” he whispers.

Louis swallows, raking through his words, “it's just- just a bath, okay? There’s um, milk and honey. It's an Egyptian thing... I um, I think?” he pauses, “is this... okay? For yo- us?”

“I- _yes_ ,” he breathes.

“Yes?” Louis asks unsure, eyebrows furrowed, “because if this isn’t- if it's not something that you’re comfortable with or- or you just do-”

“Yes,” Harry cuts Louis off, leaning in almost desperately and capturing Louis’ lips. His hands cradling his face, lips rough and soft and slow and wet. They’ve got all the time in the world, they're sure of it, but it doesn't stop Harry from breathing out, “okay. Yes, ‘s’okay, always,” over Louis' lips like world is about to stop spinning, kissing slower, slower.

Louis’ hands run up Harry’s chest to his shoulders, slowly pulling away. “Can I help you?” he murmurs, eyes fluttering open, “help you get these stupid hipster clothes off?”

Harry snorts, head falling to Louis' shoulders. His eyes are glistening, and he murmurs playfully, “Strip me.”

“Strip you?” Louis inquires with raised eyebrows and a smirk, hands gliding to Harry’s shirt collar to undo the first button, “anything potentially dangerous that can poke me?” he says in a mock, stern voice.

Harry giggles, letting Louis unbutton more buttons. “No sir."

Louis raises an eyebrows, finishing the last of the buttons much quicker. He runs his hands under the shirt and over Harry’s chest, wiping his thumbs over his nipples, “You sure about that?” he teases, running his hands back down Harry's chest, and letting one press into his semi, “this seems pretty dangerous to me.”

Harry laughs, loud and gross and perfect, “we are not going to be Liam and Zayn.”

Louis gasps, “I can't believe you're thinking of other boys when I did all this for you!”

“Well, when you undress me like a sloth my mind can’t help bu-”

Louis pulls Harry close by his shirt openings, pressing their lips together, “Shut up.”

There's a content sigh and lovely hum, and Harry sinks into Louis’ touch, "Yes, sir."

Harry can feel Louis smile against his mouth, and he can't help but to return it. His body falls pliant, feeling Louis' hands run back up under his shirt and to his shoulders, where he gently rolls it down his back and arms, letting it fall to the ground. He closes his eyes, letting Louis drag his hands all over him, enjoying the warm touch of his soft fingertips. God, he's never going to get over how soft Louis' fingertips are, how soft his touch is.

“You're so beautiful, Harry,” Louis whispers, eyes grazing down Harry's torso, saying the words more to himself than anything else. "Jesus,” he mutters quieter, glancing up and meeting Harry's eyes, "jesus," he says again, leaning in to press his lips to Harry's. “So addicting," he says against them, kissing languidly, "love you so much.”

"Love you too,” he murmurs, following Louis as he pulls away to try and peck him one last time.

Louis strips Harry of his jeans, rolling them down his thighs and ankles and feet, gently tugging them off of him. He does his pants the same way, placing lingering kisses to his milky thighs, knees, just breathing over his soft skin, stuck in utter disbelief that he actually gets to do this, that someone as beautiful as Harry can be his.

Louis pulls off his pants, aware of the lingering eyes behind him as he steps out of them. He strips off his shirt and piles them in the corner where he kicked Harry's clothes. Whilst doing so, Harry is stepping into the water, his eyes widening. The water feels like silk, washing against the skin it touches, making him moan lightly. He carefully sits against the back of the tub at one end, sinking his body into the tulle like water, rose petals skimming over his thighs and sticking to his skin that just barely sinks below the water. He runs his thumb over them, brushing them carefully back into the water.

Louis sits at the opposite end of the tub, settling into the water with a content sigh, bending his legs to tuck around Harry's in the small space. The candles in the corner flicker lightly, and Harry traces one of his finger around the rim of the container, watching the wax pool in the bottom. It's sweet like vanilla, maybe a different sugary smell, but sweet nonetheless and he breathes in its softness.

"Feel good?" Louis asks softly, breaking the silence.

Harry hums in reply, closing his eyes and falling deeper into the water, the pink rose still tucked behind his ear. His sweet, summer touched skin contrasting beautifully against what his winter skin looks like. Warm vanilla bean and caramel, and Louis' never met someone he wants to give the world to like how he wants to with Harry.

He smiles to himself, carefully moving himself to sit on his knees so he can grab his flannel. He dips it into the warm water, glancing up to see that Harry has a content little smile on his lips, eyes closed peacefully, letting the water curl around him.

He lets his hands wrap around Harry's ankles under the water without thought, thumbs spreading his legs, knees, thighs apart with no regard; and it's when Harry's eyes flutter open slowly, blinking in ease, calm and content, that he freezes, chokes on an "oh," and falls into Harry with his hands and lips and heart. He kisses him hard, so hard, wanting Harry to remember the press of his lips as they wrap around his.

Harry's reaction is immediate, arms immersing Louis, pulling him tight into his chest- their bodies flush against each other in the slick space of breaths and water and hands. Hands- Harry's hands are everywhere; Louis' shoulder, his back, his bum and thighs, up, up, wrapping an arm around Louis' waist and another around his upper back to squeeze any space between them away. Water sloshes, and breaths cut off, and the flower petals stick to their wet skin.

Louis cups Harry's face in his hand, the flannel lost in the water somewhere, and he just cradles Harry's face, thumbs swiping slowly over his cheekbones in the most delicate way possible as his lips work against Harry's like they're the only lips designed to be pressed to. He inhales every gasp, sigh, exhale; tongue slick and warm and wet against his own. It's hard and sluggish and passionate, kissing like they have all the time in the world, like they're not waiting for something better because this is _it_. This is what they are, and will be, and it is more than enough. Lips pressed together, tongues tangling, teeth clacking, like there is still more to discover, still more to each other, that's always going to be more than enough.

Harry turns, water sloshing out of the tub to create a puddle. He moves them so they're pressed together in the tub on their sides. Shoulder laid against the angled incline of the edge of the tub, one of Louis' legs thrown over Harry's hips and wrapping around him, one of Harry's tucked between Louis', fitting themselves together so tightly that not even the sleek water can run between them. Their lips move easily, hands gentle on chests, faces, tangling in hair, wrapped up in warm, milky love.

"Love you," Louis gasps into the kiss, arching his back as Harry's nails dig into his back, and he keeps mumbling it like he knows no other words, "love you, love you, love you."

All Harry can do is moan in response, chest burning for more air as he pecks Louis' lips again and again, scared that if he stops, they won't be there to start up again.

Louis’ hands are on his chest, cupping the lovely mixture they are in and washing it over him, rubbing gentle circles over his body with just the palm of his hand, soothing softness into his body, his bones, until he becomes a languid body demanding to be touched by Louis, and demanding to touch in return. Louis cups his face, ducks down and kisses Harry softly, settling their lips together until it's too much and their hearts are spilling out their throats.

(“Louis!” Harry laughs loudly when Louis splashes water at him.

“Harry!” Louis yells in mockery, splashing more water at the boy, water dripping out of the side of the tub, and a giant puddle forming on the ground.

The water is half way more empty than before, and turning colder each minute. Harry is tucked between Louis' legs, his arms wrapped around his waist and head on his shoulder. They've got flower petals over their nipples, candle wax smeared over their chests ("goddamn it Harold, there has to be a reason why people get off on this shit, now just dump it on me!"), and stupid grins on their faces.

"They made a statue of us!"

Harry snorts against Louis' neck, licking up the water drop that runs down his skin.

"Then put it on a mountain tooop!"

All Harry can do is shake his head, burrowing his head into Louis' neck as he listens to his boyfriend sing out of tune.

"Now tourists come and stare at us," he bops Harry's nose as he sings it, "Blow bubbles with their gum."

Harry blows a spit bubble with his raw-red lips, pouting when Louis flicks it with his finger.

"Take photographs, have fuuuun. Have fun!"

Harry inhales deeply, rolling his eyes and turning his head so he can suck on Louis' neck; wrapping his lips around a piece of skin and sucking harshly, little nibbles and bites and licks until there is a wine coloured blotch against his skin, and Louis stays quiet as he does it. He kisses it lightly, pulling back to lay against Louis' shoulder again.

"Tryin'a eat me again?" Louis jokes light-heartedly, smile fond as he looks over Harry's sweet and soft face.

Harry nods in response, leaning down and biting Louis' shoulder.

"Yeah?" Louis pauses, "wha'do'I taste like?"

"Mmmm," Harry hums eyes fluttering close in contentment, small smile barely grazing his cheeks, and he murmurs, "Louis."

"Louis," Louis snorts, "bet that's great."

"Yup," Harry says, lazily turning his head to lick at Louis' shoulder again, "warm," he murmurs, "warm, 'nd nice," he pauses with a deep inhale, tightening his arms around Louis' waist, "'nd like safety."

Devastatingly real, breath trapped, heart clasping, and Louis' never felt himself crumble before this, this and Harry and all of _this_. It's a slip-down in the tub, and knocking foreheads against foreheads; Louis grasping Harry's chin between his fingers and making him look into his eyes. He murmurs it again, except softer, personal, _them_ , "and they'll make a statue of us."

 

 

**ii.**

It arrives when Harry is out with Jesy, Perrie, and Niall. Harry had invited him to go with them all, but in the background, he could hear Niall throwing a tissy fit, whining about how it's "girls only" and "Louis' a gross, stinky boy."

Harry and Louis both stayed silent, listening to Jesy yell at Niall about how "Louis bloody well smells better than you, ya bag of farts 'nd day old lasagne!"

And then, who Louis assumed was Perrie, was making a gasping noise, a soft murmured sound like she had her head shoved in something like Niall's hair, and was yelling at Jesy, "Ni doesn't smell like a bag of farts, Jesy, how could you say that!"

"You forgot the day old lasagne!"

"Day old lasagne is my favourite, just so you know!" she said back, and Jesy scoffed, finally turning back to the phone conversation she was having.

"If Louis wants to deal with this then yeah, he can come."

"No thanks!" he calls through the phone line, making Harry snort.

"Wait-" Jesy chokes, "Harry, you had this on speaker!"

He's sprawled over his couch, his hand in a bag of crisps and reruns of Big Brother playing on the tv. The phone rings, and he groans, and suddenly he has four fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean of the dust from the crisps. He fishes his phone from his pocket and sees it's the main desk. There's an answer, and a nod, and Louis has a package waiting for him downstairs.

Louis knows what it is before he even gets it in his hands.

It is not but a couple days that Louis waits to present Harry with his gifts. Niall had to go to some study meeting a couple hours away, and so he gets to open the shop and work his shift alone. It is usually slow in the mornings anyhow, though, save for a few strays requesting a take-n-bake and the ones that are there for the day-old pizza slices they pop in the refrigerator and sell half-off. Louis admits, when he works the early shift, he is the main customer of the cold halfers.

Harry is peacefully sleeping in bed still, curled in on Louis’ empty bed spot still even after he had made a ruckus in the shower, dropping the shampoo and then the body soap, tripping whilst stepping out, and cursing the cosmos.

He smiles at his boy as he shakes his messy hair out and towels off his damp body. He slips on a pair of pants, and then his black work trousers; digging through the closet for his tacky-orange work shirt. He’s biting his lip, thumbing over the open drawer to his socks and pants, eyeing the pink tinselled paper shoved in the back of the drawer, hidden under random pieces of clothing.

He takes a glance at Harry, seeing him still fast asleep, soft snores escaping his pretty pink lips, and okay. He’ll do it.

His heart races on his way back to the flat from an uneventful morning at work. Harry usually texts him random things he is doing or watching, something to help him get through his shift without getting too snappy. The majority of him is excited though, a good, throat-drying excited; but- part of him-- a small part- has a sinking, worried feeling, like maybe it's too much, or not enough, or ridiculous, or, or, or _something_.

Maybe he is still asleep.

No, Louis knows this anticipation, it's good, fantastic; knows the minute he sees Harry he is going to choke on his tongue, and throat, and _moans_. He is always forgetting just how naughty Harry is, always forgetting that Harry is this sweet and lovely boy that has this side to him. This side that is filled with smirks, and raised eyebrows, and a lot of tease, and too much tongue, and dirty, absolutely _filthy_  words that are just for him.

He knows that the worry he is feeling is just a subconscious cloud, a ‘what if?’ to anything that is a 'too-thought-out.' But he knows what Harry is doing.

"'m home, love," he calls quietly, kicking his shoes off and biting his lip in anticipation.

"Louis!"

And nothing could have prepared Louis for this.

Harry calls his name in his cute and raspy voice, shyly shuffling from around the corner of the hallway and into his arms. His hug is big and engulfing and perfect, and Louis can smell the sweet vanilla-strawberry scent wafting from his skin, and his heart beats faster.

"Hey," Louis says quietly, in his softest voice. That gentle smile that belongs to Harry only, spreading over his face.

"Hi," Harry whispers into his neck. Louis can feel his smile against his skin, "you got me _stuff_."

Louis laughs, pulling away from his boy but holding him by his waist still. He sighs; sighs because that's all he can manage with how beautiful Harry looks. So lovely and light and _his._

Harry blinks in his teasing, innocent way, and smiles bigger. "How do I look?" he asks, pulling away from Louis' hands, but grabbing one to hold as he twirls in a circle. And he's perfect, he fucking _is_. He is smiling, and confident, and open, and so _radiant_. In just short of a year he has come so far, done so much. There's still a long road to go down, but here, right now, he is shining; and the glowing radiance of the universe's brightest star could never compete with the way Harry's smile is reflecting in Louis' eyes.

"Harry," Louis laughs breathlessly, pulling him back into his chest, "you look so wonderful."

He is in a light pink sweater, big enough that it is baggy and comfy, but small enough that the very tips of his fingertips still poke out from beneath the sleeves. Louis picked it because he knows how easily chilled his boyfriend gets, and the winter months are coming up and he knows Harry will live in it. The bottom hem of the sweater is bunched at his waist, showing off the cotton of his panties. They're a cream white colour, with red trim bumps of threading on the hems, and with a strawberry print pattern. In the back, the soft cotton turns to a red, see-through mesh that starts halfway down his bum and ends a few inches down, showing off a teasingly cute amount of bum. The best part, though, are the light pink socks on his feet, sprinkled with yellow dots that blossom up his ankles to a green trim that waves down, resembling a pink strawberry.

"Yeah?" Harry smiles, biting his lip.

Louis laughs again, pushing Harry's long curls back from his face. "Yeah baby," Louis says, scrunching his nose up with a small smile, "you're too perfect for your own good."

Harry bites his lip shyly, crowding into Louis' space again. Louis lets him, holds him against his chest, smiling when the taller boy rests his head against his shoulder and wraps his arms loosely around his waist to connect his fingers in the back. "I like when you call me baby," he murmurs softly, the shiver of his eyelashes tickling his neck.

"Yeah?" Louis breathes in response.

Harry simply nods, tilting his head up slightly so his lips press to Louis' neck.

"I can call you baby," Louis murmurs, pulling Harry impossibly closer to him, "can call you baby as much as you want, yeah baby?"

It makes Harry giggle, soft and shy and sweet; and Louis can feel it, that mood they get in, that headspace, the softness. Louis' never wanted to call Harry baby as much as he does right now.

Louis pulls back and kisses Harry's cheek, lovely and flushed.

Harry bites his lip, just staring at Louis for a moment before he is rolling his eyes and dipping his fingers into the front of Louis' work trousers. It makes Louis snort at how subtle he is, and Harry pouts.

"C'mon," he whines softly, "get out of these gross clothes."

"Okay," Louis whines back, thumbing at Harry's sweater before letting it go and moving Harry's hands from his trousers. He kisses Harry's cheek again, then laughs as he sprints to their bedroom and flops down onto the bed. Harry's giggles follow him, and whilst he's looking to the side to see the rest of the gifts he bought Harry splayed over the desk, he gets a lap full of boy.

Harry's laugh is small and teasing, biting at his smile. He's straddling Louis' thighs, bent over with his curls falling into his face as he undoes the button on Louis' trousers. He keeps glancing up, smirk big over his lips, palming Louis without hesitation, pulling the flaps of the trousers away and down.

Louis snorts, shaking his head, "Someone's a bit needy."

Harry immediately pulls his hand away, smile still evident on his face, and he puts his hands in his lap and sits back on Louis' thighs. He's blinking and smiling and so, so gorgeous, and Louis can't resist him one bit.

He tilts his head in the pillow, smiling at his boy, "Baby," he murmurs softly, "c'mere." Soft, and fond, god, he can never control how fond he is. He has never had someone that made him feel so much like vanilla dripping down window glass.

Harry falls forward onto Louis' chest, hands sneaking under Louis' armpits to his hair to hold onto, the dip of his elbows resting underneath them so Louis has to wrap his arms around him. "Lou," Harry whispers, eyes hooded.

"Harry," Louis replies, tracing his hands down Harry's back, "my baby."

The small noise escapes Harry's lips, and Louis catches it right away; the small whimper, desperate and needy and hot. He licks his lips, and perhaps that is all that is needed because they're against Harry's without a second-thought. Rough and slow, feeling every canyon of their chapped lips, filled with each other’s lips, teeth, tongues. Louis licks open Harry's mouth, dragging his tongue across his boyfriend's teeth, slow and deliberate until Harry opens his mouth further and sucks it into his mouth, drawing a filthy moan from Louis' throat.

As soon as one of Harry's hands reaches down to palm himself, Louis' hand moves too, brushing Harry's out of the way to do it for him. Harry whimpers at the contact, decidedly wrapping his fingers around Louis' length that is still concealed in his pants. It’s hot kisses, and messy palms, desperate rutting for more friction as they get fully hard. Lips red and swollen and sucking, tongues licking and lapping and wet; it's hot and they're panting into each other’s mouths and Harry presses his thumb down especially hard onto Louis' concealed cock.

"Baby- _oh_."

Harry pulls back, eyes wide and slicked over, a string of saliva connecting their kiss-bruised lips. Harry licks, swallows, blinks, and every bit of it makes Louis groan, Harry's thumb still circling the head of his cock so slowly, so softly. Understanding each other is as easy as seeing each other.

Louis' shirt is off, and his trousers are pulled down, and so are his pants. His hair is mussed, and his eyebrows drawn, and Harry's just fucking petting his cock, slow and teasing, and god, he's so- _fuck_.

He grabs Harry's wrist and pulls him forward, attaching their lips in a teeth clacking kiss that is more desperate air than anything, mind blurring on whether to push Harry away or to pull him closer and just come on his thigh, because honestly, he can, he fucking can.

But Harry's grinding down on him like he's riding a cock, and god, Louis wants to taste so fucking bad. He wants to move those cute little panties down his bum and watch Harry's toes wiggle in those fucking socks, and he wants him to take a seat on his goddamn face.

His hands automatically grab Harry's arse, spreading his cheeks apart roughly with his fingers and kneading his skin through the fabric. Harry gasps into his mouth, rutting back into the hands gripping his arse. Its filthy kissing, tongues out of mouth, licking, panting, teeth grazing skin, choking on hushed whimpers. Louis can feel Harry's heartbeat in his mouth, swallowing down the extra thuds, fabricating delicious noises of sloppy, wet kisses.

He pulls away.

Harry makes a deep whining noise in the back of his throat, sucking in air desperately and trying to reattach their lips.

"Baby," Louis whispers through shy breathing, "baby, baby," he continues softly, trailing his hands from Harry's arse to his thighs, pulling them forward, "c'mere."

Harry furrows his eyebrows, leaning down to kiss Louis again, but instead of kissing back Louis bites the boy’s bottom lip, sucking it between his lips before releasing it. "Higher," he murmurs, smirk spreading across his face, "want your pretty bum on my face."

Harry whimpers, eyes fluttering close momentarily before he is scrambling off of Louis' chest. Louis' arms only tighten around his thighs, practically hauling him up his chest from the position he was in until his knees are spread beside his head, pretty hole above of his lips through the red mesh, and his mouth is watering. He lets Harry set the pace though, shimming his panties down his meaty little thighs, and he helps him pull them off of each ankle, setting the pretty panties to the side.

He's still in his pink sweater, sleeves slipping past his knuckles as he sits above Louis' face again. It is not rushed yet, easy and sensual in this slow, desperate form that makes their cocks ache, dripping with bubbled precum. Louis puckers his lips, blowing a sweet air against Harry's hole that makes him jump slightly, body shuddering.

"I don't- I've never-" Harry starts hesitantly, "How- _oh_."

Louis pulls Harry down onto his face, nose nuzzling between his arsecheeks, and lips brushing against his hole. Harry's thighs are already trembling.

"What if-" he starts again, "what if you- can you, can you breathe alright?" Harry asks, his body quivering because he doesn't know if he wants to fuck Louis' tongue or make sure he is doing it right. His mind is so blurred, fuzzy and light, Louis' voice calling him baby on repeat.

Louis wraps his tongue around Harry's tight hole, sucking his lips together and gathering his spit on the end of his tongue to make his pink hole lovely and slick. He pulls away, after hearing Harry's fluttery moan, and he chuckles lightly. "Baby," Louis says, his hot breath hitting Harry's hole, "just hold the headboard and fuck my face, okay?"

And fuck.

His skin is smooth and hot, Louis' thumbs spreading his arsecheeks apart. He smells like boy and body wash and arse, but god, does arse smell good, rocking on his face so lightly, so scared to hurt Louis but still chasing the feel of his tongue. Hot and slick, just circling his puckered hole. He traces the muscle, relishing in the lovely taste that is Harry and only Harry, licking a flat stripe over him before pointing his tongue, and tracing again and again.

But Louis wants inside, wants him slick and wet and loose, wants his tongue to fuck in and out of his tight hole.

He wraps his arms around Harry's thighs, and yanks him down.

"Oh," Harry gasps, eyes closing. His hands no longer grip the headboard, instead shifting into the space between his knees, forehead resting against the wall. Louis' tongue circles inside of him, licking and lapping, making spit drip from his pretty little hole. Louis has full control still, shifts Harry’s thighs down and cranes his neck so he can kiss over his taint and up to his balls.

Harry gasps at the contact, rocking forward as Louis tries sucking on one of his balls. He pulls Harry back, turning his face to nibble on his inner thighs.

"C'mon baby," Louis murmurs into his smooth skin, "let me taste you, let me make you feel good."

Harry chokes on his air.

"Let me make you feel good," he whispers against the soft skin, "let me take care of you.”

And he- he lets go.

Harry lets out a shaky sigh, and finally lets the rigidness leave his body. Louis can feel him go pliant, and he smiles into his silky smooth thigh, pressing his lips softly to the skin. Then he's back between his boy's cheeks, pressing kisses around his puckered entrance, light and teasing. He sucks, so gently, lips wrapping and moving against his sweet little hole, making it wet and slippery, making Harry pant and whine.

Louis points his tongue. His eyes are closed, and his hands are now gripping Harry's little arsecheeks, pulling him apart with his thumbs, nails digging into his meaty skin, his tongue licking its way into his tight entrance again. He feels like he's in a haze, a dream. The sweet smell of sweat and musk and Harry, right there in his face, _on_ his face. There are little tiny sounds he can hear Harry making above him, the slide of his arse against his cheeks and face, his tongue swivelling inside of him.

He bites down on his rim, and Harry chokes on a groan, his hips moving on his own as he grinds back onto Louis’ face.

"Please, please- Louis-" his voice cuts off when Louis points his tongue again, Harry fucking himself down onto it. Louis can feel Harry clenching around him as he licks messily inside of him, no technique or precision, just Harry fucking down on him, his back arched, toes curling in his pretty socks. He keeps whimpering, _god_ , his hips rotating, pushing down, down, trying to get more of Louis' sinful tongue inside of him.

Filthy slurping sounds fill the room, Harry's little ah-ah-ah's bouncing off the walls as he grinds down, rocking himself, his eyes rolling back in his head at how fucking great it feels. Louis' tongue is like velvet gold, lapping and lapping, more persistent than the swaying of his hips, deep in his arse. Harry feels so close and it just started. God, he never wants to sit anywhere else.

Louis pulls his tongue out, receiving a low whine from Harry's pretty lips. He flattens it, licking straight over his dripping hole.

"Oh- _oh_. Please."

Louis bites down on his rim again, circling his tongue around, the rotations getting smaller and smaller until he's back inside and licking over him again, teasing. It's never enough of one thing to get Harry going, but it's enough of everything to have him absolutely gone.

And then Louis pulls away. _Again_.

He blows cool air over his spit-slick hole, smirking when he can feel Harry's entire body shiver atop of him. "Like that, baby?" he murmurs into his skin, groping his arse cheeks and pulling them further and further apart. Harry's thighs are quivering as he hovers above of Louis, his hands gripping the headboard once again for support so he doesn't just collapse on Louis' face and demand his tongue.

"Huh? S'good, yeah?" Louis murmurs, turning his head to bite at one of his bum cheeks, "making you feel good, right love?"

"So good," Harry breathes shakily above him, his lips trembling.

Louis hums, like making Harry feel good is all that is important to him. It is, really.

He doesn't pull Harry's hips back down, instead he leans up just a bit, letting just the tip of his tongue lick over his hole. Harry groans, nails digging into the headboard. Every time Louis pulls him apart, his hole clenches around nothing, pink and fluttering and begging for more of his dirty tongue and mouth.

He runs his thumb over him, dry against all the wet spit. He circles it around the wet little hole, slowly easing it inside.

"Ah- _ah_ -" Harry cuts off, eyebrows screwing shut when Louis pushes it in further. It's the small burning ache of his nail scraping over his rim, his dry finger slipping in. Just enough of an ache to make his cock bubble precum, dripping down the length of his cock.

"Okay, baby?" Louis says beneath him, and all Harry can manage is to rock his hips back to show him it's definitely okay.

Louis smirks, leading Harry's arse back down to sit on his face, thumb still shoved inside of him, and he licks around it. He sucks around the intrusion, moving his lips masterly around where his thumb is inside of him.

In the odd position, he tries to slowly  ease his thumb in and out of Harry hole, but it's a rough drag, and mostly just his nail scraping his insides, which fuck, is perfectly okay, it's making Harry whine and tremble, such a filthy sensation. There's a bit of work, and Louis' tongue slips in beside his thumb, and Harry can only gasp once more. Its light tongue swishing, and his thumb pressing against Harry' walls to make room, dirty, dirty slurping noises being the soundtrack of the day.

Then it's all gone, and Harry's being pulled from his position and laid out on the bed. It's all so fast and fluent, all he can do is squeak before Louis' lips are against his, and the tongue that was just licking his arse is in his mouth, and fuck, it shouldn't be this fucking _hot_ , this fucking _great_ , but god knows it is. Tasting himself on Louis' tongue, _licking_  himself from his tongue, _god_.

"We're not done yet," Louis growls into his mouth. He bites on Harry's bottom lip, pulling it out a bit before letting go and moving away.

He sits up, stacking the pillows up against the headboard and sitting back against them.

"C'mere, sit on my lap, sweetheart," Louis says. His cock is heavy, angry red, and dripping precum all down his length.

Harry mewls, soft, overwhelmed breaths leaving his mouth, as he goes to straddle Louis' hips.

"No," Louis stops him, "turn around." His hands grab Harry's sides to help guide him to straddle his hips so his back is facing him.

"Lay forward a bit, baby," he murmurs softly. He runs his hand down Harry's back, before adding pressure to make the boy lay forward.

Harry follows instructions, dazedly moving so his forehead is pressed between Louis' knees.

"Mmm, perfect baby," Louis murmurs, hands latching onto Harry's hips and pulling him back; Harry's cock dragging up his chest until his arse is back in front of his face. "Can you move your legs to my shoulders, love?"

Harry simply moans in response, pressing a kiss on Louis' cock that is now in front of his face, as he settles his knees on Louis' shoulders, legs wrapping around his neck, his strawberry socks slipping down. He whines.

"What's wrong, baby?" Louis asks sweetly ignoring his boyfriend's bum in favour of making sure his darling is alright.

Harry blushes furiously, rubbing his face into Louis' upper thigh. "Socks." he murmurs softly.

Louis furrows his eyebrows, "Socks?" he says, "do you want me to take them off?"

"No, no, no," Harry rushes, shaking his head quickly to prove his point further, "on. Want them on," he feels his eyes well up with tears, nearly, because he doesn't know what's happening to him, why he feels like he has forgotten how to speak entirely. "Fix," he decides when he finds the word in his muddled brain, "fix them."

He then unwraps his legs from around Louis' neck, and falls down his chest a bit so he can cross his feet in front of Louis' face.

"Oh darling," Louis says fondly. He releases his grip on Harry's waist to straighten the little strawberry socks out. He doesn't know why he does it, but he does. "This little pug went to the market," he starts, wiggling Harry's big toe through the socks, "this little pug stayed home."

Harry giggles, soft and bright, nuzzling into Louis' thighs and feeling so perfect.

"This little pug had roast beef, this little pug had none," Louis makes sure to make the pout on his lips evident in his tone, especially when he feels Harry's frown press into his thigh.

"And this little pug," Louis starts with a little smile, holding onto Harry's baby toe as if he isn't leaking precum all over his stomach, "went wee wee wee all the way home!"

Loud peals of giggles fill the room, and Louis tickles Harry's strawberry sock covered feet, pressing his lips to his toes and giving loud, obnoxious kisses to each one.

"S'that better, baby?" Louis smiles, his eyes crinkling as he bites on one of Harry's toes.

Harry squeals, wiggling his feet away and re-positioning himself back to how they were.

"I take that as a yes," Louis snickers playfully, pinching Harry's bum.

And then they're back to before. After a few more pinches and giggles and ‘ _Louis’ '_  they're back to that anticipation. That realisation that they're both painfully hard and leaking over one another. Except:

It's different now. Not because he's half upside down, or because Louis' cock is right there, and his cock is rubbing against Louis' chest, no. Now he's spread completely open, right in front of Louis' face, and Louis can see. Before he was focused on his socks, but now, now he is open and spread. He feels so vulnerable, almost, because despite the amount of times he has had Louis' tongue in his arsehole, there was never a chance to just stop and ogle. Ogle like Louis is doing right now, petting his spread bum cheeks, thumbs stroking his skin.

He distracts himself with Louis' cock, sucking the head between his perfect lips, rolling his tongue over the slit.

"You're so good at that, baby," Louis murmurs, his hot breath fanning over his hole, "makes me feel so good."

All Harry can do is hum in response, because Louis' tongue is back at it, swirling around his rim, but never hitting the spot he wants to hit most. Louis puckers his lips, letting his spit dribble out of his mouth and over Harry's hole, getting him sloppy and wet, so when he finally brushes his tongue over his most sensitive part, his tongue dips right in. He's hot and clenching, and this time he can bury his tongue in deeper, licking further into Harry's arse.

Harry moans around Louis' cock, momentarily stopping his actions as he relishes in the fantastic feeling. He can't help but to rock back a bit, shuddering when Louis' tongue goes deeper and the head of his cock drags against his chest. _God_.

"So good angel, y'know that?" Louis murmurs when he pulls back, squeezing each of his arsecheeks, "look so good like this. Love your pretty hole."

Every 'baby' makes Harry's tummy curl, his body flushing pink. He loves it so much. Loves the words, and the feelings, and his boyfriend.

Louis bites his lip, kissing Harry's bum before pulling his hand back, and slapping one of Harry's arsecheeks.

" _Oh_ ," Harry pulls off of Louis' cock with a gasp, burying his face into Louis' outstretched thighs, "Oh."

"Yeah?" Louis smirks. He leans down, licking a flat stripe over Harry's hole, bringing his hand back and smacking Harry's arse again.

"Oh, _oh_ -" Harry chokes, grinding his arse back against Louis' tongue that's fucking into him again. All he can manage to do is weakly wrap his hand around Louis' cock and wank him, his mind so hazy, body buzzing off the charts. The burn on his arse, and the tongue in his hole, and god, he can't even hold himself up properly. He's just lying against Louis' chest, his head buried in Louis' legs, letting himself be taken care of.

"How's that, baby boy? Know you love being spanked," Louis murmurs sweetly, kneading the boy's cheeks.

"More," Harry whimpers, feeling tears well in his eyes because he just wants it so badly.

"More?"

"Please, please," Harry sobs, pushing his arse back as much as he can.

Louis gives it to him. He smacks once, twice, three more times in a row and Harry has tears streaming down his face but he just wants more. Louis makes it feel so good, makes him feel so safe because he can trust Louis to do stuff like this to him; to make him feel so dirty and naughty.

God, he's not even wanking Louis anymore-can't- just has a hold on his dick, panting into the soft skin on his thigh.

His legs keep tightening around the back of Louis' neck, the only support he can offer, the fingers on his waist leaving bruises from how hard Louis is gripping him there with one hand. His sweater is bunching on his upper chest, his skin covered in a light sweat that makes his body tingle.

"Your bum looks so pretty, baby. Pretty and red for me," Louis murmurs sweetly, kissing the bum cheek he had just smacked.

"Please," Harry whimpers brokenly, so, so close to coming.

The tongue lapping at his arse makes his eyes flutter close, pumping Louis' cock a couple of times before he just keeps his hand wrapped around it, thumb petting at it because he has no energy to do anything else when his stomach, and veins, and fucking _cock_  feels like it's about to burst.

Fast, hot, sloppy, licking in, around, over, fucking him as deep as his tongue will get in. Sucking harshly at Harry's swollen rim, biting and licking, and more fucking and Harry is falling apart, his tears soaking into Louis' thighs. Louis jaw is absolutely aching, but he's persistent, curling his tongue deep inside of Harry, filled with spit.

"Oh, oh- fuck," Harry gasps, eyes scrunching up. He starts to rub against Louis' chest, rocking back on his tongue, fucking deep inside of him and getting delicious friction on his cock. The word 'baby' replaying in his consciousness as he seeks out his pleasure. The word is curling in his throat, slowly slipping up with every thrust of Louis' tongue, and he just isn't prepared when Louis brings his hand down again, slapping his arse cheek nice and hard, and he's coming with a loud gasp of, "Oh, _daddy_."

He's shaking, _god_ , trembling, his knees drawing to his stomach and he rolls off of Louis, curling into the mattress. He feels tears going down his cheeks. Fuck, his orgasm white-washing his mind as he just lies there, heavy breathing and overwhelmed emotion buzzing through him. It's so good, Louis' always so fucking good.

"Say it," he hears in a hushed voice minutes later.

Harry blinks dazedly. It is as if all of his senses left and came back, and now he can feel the bed shaking, and hear the wanking and, and. He lifts his head to look up at Louis. Jesus, his head is against the headboard, chest and stomach covered in his come and lips a bright red and he's pumping his cock, so fucking fast, the palm of his free hand rolling over the dark, swollen tip.

"Please," he says again, "say it- call me- ah."

Harry's so fucking gone, the flush of his body unchanging, and Louis, the way he's flicking his wrist and gasping out little noises and it's all because of him.

"Call me daddy," he grits, eyes dark and so wanting that Harry thinks he might start getting hard again. And, and, _daddy_.

"Daddy," Harry blinks, body so pliant that when he tries to move he just wants to fall over.

He doesn't though. Because Louis' asking him to call him daddy, and ever since Louis told him about Zayn and Liam it's been there, in the front of his mind. It's so hot; feels naughty and wrong, but also so right and endearing, being Louis' pretty baby.

He crawls up to Louis' come streaked chest, sitting beside him and just looking over his body, how fit he is.

"Daddy," he murmurs again, sitting on his knees, "I like calling you daddy."

"Yeah, baby?" Louis roughs, hand flicking faster.

"Yeah daddy," he whispers, "are you gonna come?" he asks, voice coated in a fake innocence. He's a natural slut for things like this.

"Yeah," Louis replies, "fuck- yeah. m'gonna come, baby."

Harry still feels dizzy from his own orgasm, but he finds himself slipping down between Louis' legs, desperate need to please. And he asks, "are you gonna come on my face, daddy?"

And Louis comes. Hard. Harsh red tip of his cock releasing white ropes all over Harry's flushed face. His eyes falling shut and eyebrows furrowing. It's so fucking good. Feels like heaven splashing against his face.

 

It's only one in the afternoon, and Harry is curled into Louis' side. They're both warm, light and warm and a bit hazy. The room feels soft, and their skin feels slick, and Louis' holding Harry so close that they might as well be one. Their minds are shutting down, on the brink of sleep as their eyelids get more and more hooded, breaths evening out. Both of them too intoxicated on their orgasms to speak a right word, instead bathing in each other's loving radiance. Their post-orgasm warmth spreads over them, blanketing them in their love and making them feel more whole than when they dove in.

Before they fall asleep, Louis manages to pull himself together enough to whisper into Harry's ear. "Love you, baby.”

 

 

**iii.**

“We should tell the barista that you just found out you've been clear of cancer for a year now."

Louis raises an eyebrow, his hand that is gripping Harry's waist slides to the middle of his back as he turns to look at his boy with a questioning smile. "And why do you want to do that, love?"

Harry shrugs, his eyes big and shining and swallowing. "Hope and that," he says softly.

Louis lets out short, little laugh. The line moves forward and he moves his hand back to Harry's waist and pulls them a few steps forward. His eyes scan the chalkboard menu briefly once again before meeting Harry's eyes once more. "What?" Louis laughs.

"Let’s do it," he says, eyes getting bigger as he shakes his head. His dimples are caved in, and he wraps his arm around his stomach so he can grab Louis’ hand that's on his waist, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"What would you two like?" a girl with a skewed hat and messy ponytail asks politely.

Harry and Louis tear their eyes from each other, blushing.

"Uh," Louis starts, glancing to Harry. He smiles softly to him, tilting his head.

Harry beams at him, his teeth pulling at his bottom lip before he looks up to the cashier. He clears his throat, "I'll have a skinny mocha, and uh," Harry pauses," he here, will have an Earl Grey tea latte, a pound cake, um..." he trails off, looking over the board, "an apple fritter?" he glances to Louis, and Louis shakes his head yes, shyly, "an apple fritter." Harry states more surely, smiling widely.

The girl nods with a small smile, “Someone's getting treated.”

“One year cancer free, this one," Harry says softly, looking down to Louis with that look, "So we're taking the day off to spoil him"

The girl's eyes widen, and she stops fiddling with the cash register, "That's- that's fantastic!"

Harry smiles, looking down to Louis with a soft expression, taking his hand in his own and squeezing it. "It is pretty great, innit?"

It's a shy pause, and the girl's face is reflecting adoration. Up until Harry is tearing his head away with a blush, digging out his wallet and pulling out the money.

"Here you go," he says shyly, blinking as if in a daze as he hands the money to the girl. Louis pinches his side with a smirk, and Harry looks at him with a big, dumb smile, "What?" he says in defence.

"You, Harry Styles," Louis smirks, poking at Harry's side, "gross," he mouths, wrinkling his nose.

Harry rolls his eyes, cheeks flushing a dark red and he immediately turns back to the girl who is putting their treats in a little baggy, and then getting their change. "You can keep the change."

The girl looks up briefly, "What?" she pauses, eyes widening, "Oh no, no. You won't be able to treat him if I'm taking your extra money."

"No, it's fine. I've got plenty, really," Harry gushes, looking between the girl and Louis a bit lost, "keep it."

Louis hides his snort in his hand, and hip checks Harry.

"Well thank you," the girl says, "and I'm really happy for you two, you're cute," she pauses, "and I'm happy for you," she says to Louis, "I hope he treats you to a good time."

"Oh," Louis says softly with a wink, taking hold of his drink and the little baggy of food, "he always does."

Then they're out the door, and Louis can't contain his snort. "Harry Styles, what was that?"

Harry pouts, not even bothering to answer Louis' question as he leads them down the street to the little park where they ate ice cream with Niall not too long ago. It's not nearly as hot out as it was that day, but it is nice enough out to only be in jeans and a thin t-shirt; the sun shining, with a gentle breeze that tousles their hair.

Harry slides into the picnic table seat with a bright blush on his pretty cheeks. His head is down, soft smile present on his lips, and Louis sits across from him.

"You are so in love with me," Louis teases playfully. He places his elbows on the table and crosses his arms, sitting up straight. He stares at Harry, eyes crinkling, a big, happy grin splitting his face in two.

"I'm just shy," Harry says in defence, trying to hide his smile whilst also trying to grab the bag of bakery goods from Louis, who moves them farther away with a smirk on his lip as he tries to drink his tea.

He sputters. "Yeah, okay," he teases, lowering the tone of his voice to imitate Harry, "I'm just gonna be the cheeky boyfriend who is treating his shy, lil boyfriend because he's been cancer free for a year," he rolls his eyes.

Harry pouts, "Just gimme my apple fritter."

"Nope, no uh Styles," Louis shakes his head, moving the bag of treats so they're being held behind his back, "not until you admit that you were totally trying to be the protective, cheeky boyfriend and then you looked at me and caved."

"I didn't _cave_."

"You _caved_ ," Louis says, leaning over the table with a scrunched up nose, "you caved and went soft, and she _saw_  it. She saw just how big of a softie you are for me."

Harry's face turns an impossible amount redder, his dimples indenting his cheeks in a never-ending grin. "She probably just thought I was happy you were alive."

"Ha," Louis laughs, "you know what that moment was, don't you dare try to cover it up with your 'inspirational hipster lies.' You're so in love with me."

"Fine," Harry groans. He rolls his eyes and sips his coffee, "can I have my apple fritter now?"

"Uh uh, Styles. 'Fine' what?" Louis pushes, leaning just a bit over the table, smile wide.

Harry bites at his grin, "Fine. I'm so in love with you." Louis raises his eyebrows, and Harry continues with an eye roll, "and sometimes when I look at you, it feels like I'm falling in love with you for the very first time all over again."

Louis tilts his head. His eyes are crinkled into smiles, matching the one on his lips. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Now give me my fritter, m'hungry," Harry pouts, but simpers nonetheless.

Louis sits back, raising a cocky eyebrow and smirking. "God, Harold. You're so gross."

Harry rolls his eyes.

"You're just the _hugest_ sap."

"Stop talking and feed _me_ ," Harry whines, rubbing his hands over his cheeks to try and make his blush go away, maybe even his smile. He crosses his arms on the picnic table and hides his face, giggling lightly. He just can't help it, he loves when Louis teases him.

Louis sighs, and finally pulls the bakery bag back in front of him. "I love you," he murmurs quietly, smiling softly.

Harry whips his head up, his blush coming up along with a tummy full of leaps.

"I love you so much," Louis says, taking out Harry's apple fritter, "and I kind of look at you and do the same thing. You just haven't caught me yet," he winks, taking a big bite of Harry's fritter.

"Heeeey," Harry draws out with furrowed eyebrows. His heart is beating into his throat, and he feels so in love he thinks he may burst at the seams.

Louis laughs, mouth full of the sweet goodness, and he leans over the picnic table, tangling his fingers in Harry's hair, and pulling him in for a short, sweet kiss.

"I love you, you nasty, nasty hipster."

"Just give me my apple fritter."

 

 

**iv.**

"How formal are we supposed to be now?" Harry calls out. He is digging through their closet, trying to get to the back of the crowded and messy thing in hopes that their formal clothes are indeed where he thinks they are.

"Formal-formal," Louis replies from the bathroom. He has a towel around his waist and another on his head, where he is quickly trying to stop it from dripping water down his soon to be air dried body.

"Slacks it is, then." Harry mutters to himself. He finally gets to the chest that's shoved to the back of the closet, and he pulls out two pairs of slacks, one grey and the other a dark, navy blue. He lays them out on the bed, and calls out again, "black or white tops?"

Louis steps out of the bathroom bare bummed, and immediately goes to their drawers to dig for a pair of tight fitting pants to cover his bum but to also hopefully leave no seam lines. Once he finds a pair, he turns around and steps into them, eyeing the two different types of tops. "Um," he starts, "white?"

Harry hums in response, laying out the two white button downs.

"Panties?" Louis asks, scratching his tummy and watching his boyfriend scramble around the room bare bummed.

"Something comfy."

Louis knows immediately which pair to get. They're cotton and pink and he tosses them to the bed where the other clothing items lay.

Harry smiles thankfully, and takes them to shimmy up his thighs. Louis grabs his pair of the trouser pants, the dark navy blue pair, and begins pulling them on with a huff.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you blow me."

Harry snorts, pulling up his own pair of grey slacks, smirking at Louis. "I have never heard anyone say that before."

"Shut it, Styles," Louis starts, ignoring Harry's mutter of 'yeah, you know how to do that', and continuing with a small glare, "Now we're rushing to get ready because our post-come naps go on for hours."

Harry rolls his white button up over his shoulders, laughing at Louis who is buttoning his up with a frown. "You are the one who got hard against my thigh. I was just trying to watch Top Gear, you horny idiot."

Louis shrugs once he has his shirt on, and smiles up at Harry, taking the few steps across the room to stand in front of him, "I just couldn't help it," he murmurs dramatically, "I was staring at those pretty red lips of yours."

Harry snorts, and reaches down to pull Louis' fly up. "You better keep that thing put away," he leans in and pecks Louis' lips once, then twice because it's impossible to just kiss him once, before he pulls away. "Now, are you gonna wear a tie or a bow tie?"

"Bow ties are ridiculous. I question every day why I date a boy who owns so many of them."

"Oh," Harry mutters under his breath as he digs through another drawer, "I'm sure you do."

  


**v.**

They walk to the campus shoulder to shoulder, their hands stuffed in their trouser pockets, butterflies stuffed down their throats. It's going to be reuniting faces and new faces, and there's no room for hushed voices in between them at the moment, though they wish there were.

There is a line of people outside the building where the art showing is taking place, parents and students and important people to sponsor potentials. The building is covered in big yellow bulbs that glow in the slightly darkening sky, and a soft piano can be heard filtering from speakers on the inside. It's soft and beautiful, the low melody of fabricated feelings into sound, and Louis can't help but to take his hand out of his pocket and hold it out for Harry to finally take.

"H! Lou!" they hear, and they turn towards the noise to see Niall walking towards them amongst the other people that are slowly filtering inside. He's all spiffed up in black trousers, a white button up, with a grey vest to go over it all.

"Ni, my favourite Irish lad," Louis says over dramatically, letting go of Harry's hand to grab the blonde boy's cheeks and give him an over dramatic peck on the lips that makes him sputter.

Louis tuts, falling back into Harry's gravity and wrapping an arm around his boy's waist, “Still not gay I see."

Niall's tongue is out of his mouth and his nose is scrunched up and all Louis can do is smirk because behind him is familiar faces.

"Oh, my baby," comes the sweet voice of Niall's mum, then a snort from his brother.

"You never did learn to keep that tongue put away, did'ya?"

Niall laughs, almost obnoxiously, and wraps his arms around his mum and then brother, kissing them on the cheek.

"Missed your annoying laugh," his brother teases, musing his tie.

"Louis dear," Niall's mum says, "look how handsome you've become!"

Louis smiles, giving her a side hug as she continues to speak.

"And who is the cute boy you're attached too?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

Before Louis can even get a word out Niall cuts in for him, "This is Harry, the boy that Louis, god knows how, managed to snag."

Harry snorts, and Niall's mother shoots him a glare.

"It's nice to meet you, love," she says to Harry, "I always knew Louis would end up with a handsome one, but not this handsome."

Both Niall and his brother snort, nodding their heads in agreement, and Louis fake glares at them.

"Are you waiting for Jay and the girls to show up then?"

"Oh-" Niall interjects once again, "Lou, your family is already inside waiting."

"Well thanks for informing me, you twat," Louis rolls his eyes, "I'm gonna stay out here and wait with Harry for his family, though."

Niall's mum looks at her watch, "Well why don't we head inside and we'll tell your mum you're out here waiting, yeah?"

Louis smiles, "Sure thing love, that'd be great."

"I'll see you inside then."

"You can tell that's Niall's mum," Harry leans down and whispers, and Louis smiles.

"Yeah, it's quite obvious. The only difference is Niall's mum knows manners and hygiene, and also how sigh-worthy Niall can be."

"Sigh-worthy, beautiful wording."

Louis rolls his eyes and flicks Harry's nose. "If you didn't look so ravishing I might actually have left you over that comment."

"Ha," he snickers, "as if my words can actually deflate an ego as big as yours," Harry smirks, grabbing Louis' tie and pulling him close to his face, "and as if your ego can deflate after I was choking on your big c-"

"Louis!"

Harry's smirk fades at the familiar voice, and Louis' cheeks turn redder than he has ever seen them.

"Hi mum," he croaks awkwardly with a laugh, his mother quickly walks over to them, Lottie beside her.

"You and Harold flirting already, I see," she smirks.

"No-no," Louis stutters, "he was just fixing my tie."

Jay rolls her eyes, wrapping her arms around her son. "Don't pretend that I don't know what that blush is, because I do," she lets go of Louis and turns to Harry, who is standing beside Louis with his own deep blush, his hands behind his back.

"Lottie, look at this boy here," Jay says, "he gets even more handsome in real life!" Jay opens her arms up, "C'mere now, Harold. I already told you if you make my boy happy then you're in this family."

Harry giggles, letting Jay wrap her arms around him and squeeze him tight.

"God," she murmurs, "even prettier in person, you are. I can't believe my Lou could get a boy like you to fall for him."

"Hey," Louis complains, but his smile is as big as his heart, and all he can do to stop from squealing is grab his little sister Lottie and bury his face in her hair.

"Hey, no" Lottie jerks away, glaring at her brother, "you didn't tell me you turned Liam and Zayn gay."

Harry snorts, hooking his arm through Jays like a natural habit.

"So I see my baby sister still has a crush on wittle Zaynie."

Jay slaps Louis' hand away before it boops Lottie's nose.

"Still fuss non-stop, these two," she mutters to Harry.

"They're all lovey-dovey when they're FaceTiming," Harry snickers.

"I know," Jay waves her hand, "get the two together and it's like they've never hated each other more."

Lottie rolls her eyes, crossing her arms, and Louis tugs Harry away from his mum and wraps his arms around him.

Jay snorts, rolling her eyes as well.

"Where are the others?" Louis squints, leaning his chin on Harry's shoulder.

"They're inside with the hubby. Ditched them on him to come see my baby, who is still as bratty as he was when he was sixteen."

"Honestly," Louis smirks, "by all the sweet talking you're doing, I'd think you missed me."

"Ha," Jay teases, "miss you? I'm here for the free food and to see my other boy Zayn."

"Always knew you loved him more than me."

Jay rolls her eyes, shaking her head at Harry in a way to say ‘can you believe him?’  "You know I'll always love you more," she pauses, muttering under her breath teasingly, "even if it is out of obligation for you being my own flesh and blood."

Louis' about to say something snarky back when he feels Harry's phone vibrating against his crotch that is pressed to his bum. He sneaks his hand in Harry's back pocket and pulls it out, maybe taking longer than he needs to and making Lottie gag.

"Your mum’s here, babe," he states, replying with a 'waiting outside xoxoxoxoxo' and then slipping it back into Harry's pocket.

"Oh your mum?" Jay says excitedly, "not only do I get to meet the boy, but the mother too. This feels so formal."

Louis rolls his eyes. "It is formal," he states, "we're at a pretentious art show."

"Oh shut up, Louis," Lottie says, "stop acting like you aren't happy to be here for Zayn."

Louis makes a face, "you stop acting like I'd ever let you date someone five years older than you."

"I'm 16!"

"Doesn't matter. My sisters are off limits, I told all of them that."

Harry 'aws', turning his head to smile fondly at Louis, but catches Lottie's glare instead, "Don't support him in this."

Louis fake gasps, "Don't talk to dear Harold that way."

Jay raises an eyebrow, "are you two quite done yet?"

"Well it looks like we'll have to be," Louis grins, " because there's my baby's mum," Jay coos at the name of endearment, and Louis squints, "along with a pretty girl and handsome man. Is that Gemma and Robin?"

Harry's buzzing, wide grin as he nods happily.

"Harry, Lou," she says, nearly running to them, "it's so good to see you two again!"

"Again?" Jay asks, watching the woman wrap her arms around the both of them.

"Anne, this is my mum," Louis introduces, "and yes again, when we went on that road trip we went 'nd visited her."

"Yeah, they did," Anne says, "didn't even know my son had a boyfriend and he shows up with this handsome young man."

"Harry!" another girl screams as she makes it to the group, "I never thought your curls would stop being so obnoxious, but here we are."

"And that's my daughter, Gemma," Anne introduces, "and this is my boyfriend, Robin."

Jay smiles at them, "Well, this is one of my kids, Lottie. The rest are inside with the husband."

"It's nice to finally meet you," Harry tries to interject to Robin, "only heard good stuff, I promise."

Robin laughs, nodding, "Same for you."

It's a bit hectic, and a whole lot of lovely. They all kind of just try to talk in a single conversation, laughing and joking and dealing with the constant interruptions, and Gemma ends up tugging at Louis' sleeve.

Louis cocks an eyebrow at her, smile soft, and she leans in, "So you're my brother's secret homoerotic love affair.

"Love affair?" Louis smirks.

"Well what else?"

"You know what," Louis starts, "I like you."

Gemma smirks "Well good, you're gonna have to get use to me if you're gonna be dating my brother. I'll be keeping tabs. I'll call you thirty times a week and ask where you are and what you're doing."

Louis coos, covering his heart. "It's a dream to get close to my boyfriend's sister, won't you tell me his most embarrassing stories?"

Gemma eyes him for a moment, before pulling him in for a hug. "I accept you as my future brother-in-law."

"Already assuming marriage?"

"Please, a boy like you could never resist my baby brother’s curls."

"Anne told you, didn't she?"

Gemma pulls back from the hug and winks, making Louis turn a deep red.

Harry watches from beside his mum, biting into his wide smile as he absent-mindedly listens to his mum and Jay chat over something he isn't sure of, all he _is_  sure of, is that all of this feels too natural to be true.

The smooth piano music cuts off from the speakers, and an even smoother voice comes on, announcing that the event will officially begin in ten minutes. So, as naturally as they came, they go. Anne, Robin, and Jay all walk in together, in another conversation, and Gemma joins Lottie, complementing the style of her dress which leads to a conversation about their favourite fashion youtubers.

So there's Harry and Louis.

They pause, and look at each other. Harry's got that look in his eyes that reflects back into Louis', and he smiles, holding his hand out for Louis to take. They take a deep breath together, before they follow the group inside with the biggest smile in the building.

"Louis!" Louis and Harry both hear once they're in the main gathering room, and then there are two little girls attacking Louis with hugs and kisses and bombarding him with giggles.

"What's up, my little troublemakers?” Louis says, scrunching his nose up and crouching down to scoop Daisy and Phoebe into hugs.

One of the little girls looks up at Harry with wide eyes. She blinks at him, then grabs Louis' face and tugs him forward, cupping her little hands over his ear.

She whispers something, and Louis laughs.

"Yup Daisy, that's him.” Louis smiles, eyes crinkling.

The little girl leans back in to whisper more, and Louis' smile gets that much bigger.

"He is quite cute, huh?"

Harry giggles at that, biting at his lip, and Louis glances up to him smiling.

The other twin, Phoebe, wraps her arms around Louis' neck, pulling his attention towards her. "You guys weren't holding hands on mummy's laptop. Is he your princess, LouLou?"

Harry titters happily, his eyes glazing over with joy in the crowded room, and his hands involuntarily come up to cover his smile.

"Yeah, he is my princess," Louis says sweetly, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"Did you save him?" Daisy asks, grabbing her brother's hand and squeezing it.

"Nope," Louis simpers, scrunching his nose up and rubbing it against hers, "he saved me, actually."

Harry furrows his eyebrows, biting his bottom lip. He's so happy, and loving Louis is always so easy because he never once makes him feel inadequate. Even in simple, innocent moments he never makes him out to be weak, or unable, and it's little things like that that make Harry feel the most intoxicated; makes his heart pump with affection and adoration.

Louis looks up to him, smiling softly. A profound 'wordlessness' floating in his eyes, and Harry gets it. He gets the simplicity of the connection between them, and he can read the conversation in Louis' eyes, the sweetness, and the fondness. It makes him feel so overwhelmed; and not in a chaotic, messy way, but a cosmic, one hit right after the other way that leaves a hole through his stomach that has never quite felt so full.

Both of the little girls look up at Harry, and then Daisy lets go of Louis and raises her arms up to Harry.

"Oh," Harry blushes, glancing right back to Louis, who gives him a nod, same soft smile on his face, "do you want me to pick you up?"

The little girl giggles and nods, "Yes, princess."

Harry can't help but to giggle back at her, leaning down and picking the little girl up and settling her on his hip. Louis does the same with Phoebe, leaning in close next to Harry with her.

"You have pretty curls just like a princess," Daisy whispers to Harry, twirling one of her tiny fingers into his hair.

"And eyes," Louis chimes in, hip checking Harry, "and just about everything."

Daisy and Phoebe giggle, and Gemma can't help but to watch out of the corner of her eye at the two.

 

"Excuse us," the smooth voice cuts over the piano melody again, and the room slowly quiets down. "Welcome to our annual art showing to celebrate our young and talented artists..." the voice continues. They make a short announcement about things, and then list all the students’ names along with what floor they are presenting their work on. They thank all the people who helped sponsor and fund the art show, and all the dispensations that they helped provide. After, they announce the different scouts, all between art museum scouts to contract scouts.

During the announcement, both the little girls get bored, and lay their heads down on Louis’ and Harry’s shoulders. Daisy happily busied herself playing with Harry’s curls silently, twirling the hair around her fingers and then letting it go to see it bounce. Meanwhile, Louis was trying to get Phoebe to stop messing with his tie, but to no avail. She stuck her tongue out at him, yanked it hard- making Harry snort as he watched- and now Louis’ tie is untied and a mess, but they both can’t stop smiling.

Harry and Louis walk over to the rest of the group with the twins in their arms. They are all over by Zayn, who is proudly holding Liam's hand and talking to his boyfriend's mum. Anne and Jay are still chatting as if they are long lost best friends, and both Harry and Louis have an itch that they're talking about them due to all the pointing and smiling they're doing in their direction. It makes them even happier, the twins in their arms who are both snickering and giggling as they tell them about the tricks they pull on their teacher since she can't tell the difference between the two of them.

 

“Alright then, you guys all ready to head up?” Liam asks the group of them. It’s no doubt that he is asking for Zayn, who is smiling shyly despite the confidence he has in himself. It is also no doubt endearing, especially to Zayn and Liam’s mothers who give each other _that_  look.

There is a chime of 'yups’, and Zayn smiles again, leading the way to the stairs with Liam beside him.

"You two got the girls, then?" Jay asks, falling into pace next to them, "because M and I can take them if they're too much of a handful."

Daisy whines, tightening her arms around Harry's neck, and she nuzzles his shoulder with her face. It makes Harry's heart melt, his bottom lip edging out as he tilts his head coos at her, shifting her higher up on his hip.  

"I'm alright," he murmurs softly, tracing the little girl’s nose and then bopping the tip of it.

Louis smiles at his mum, soft and personal, and he nods his head, letting her know they're both alright.

The entire group slowly shuffles up to the fourth floor, zigzagging their way through the other people until they make it to the floor Zayn is presenting on. Liam finally lets go of Zayn's hand once they get to his little section of the room, only because he is taking the cloak off of Zayn's theme of his artwork, revealing the wooden display plaque that says, 'Seeing Things in a New Light.'

Once he is done, Liam kisses Zayn's cheek, and takes a standing place next to his and Zayn's family.

Zayn blushes, and coughs into his fist to try and hide his smile. "Alright," he says, clasping his hands in front of him. There is light chatter all through the room, students already introducing their work and telling the story behind each piece to their family members and friends. "Everyone ready?"

Zayn's eyes meet Louis' momentarily, and Louis gives his best friend a thumbs up, Phoebe copying him. Zayn smiles back, chuckling lightly.

"Okay," he starts, "in case some of you still can't read," he points a look to Niall, and Niall's own mum snorts, "the theme I was appointed to was 'seeing things in a new light.'"

He points to the plaque behind him, rolling his lips together. "Um, at first I had quite a bit of trouble with the theme, going back and forth between literal, and metaphorical, and personal, as well, uh," he pauses, squinting a bit as he rolls over his words, "but then I had a bit of an 'eye opening' experience you could say, and uh, I think I just couldn't stop the flow after that."

The group chuckles quietly in response, and Zayn looks down to his feet that he is shuffling back and forth. "So with that being said, I guess we can get to the artwork itself."

Louis looks to Harry and smiles, shifting Phoebe to his other hip.

"So first, it was a requirement that we all did certain canvases if we wanted to enter, that way we are building skill and not focusing on our strongest points," he explains, "so with that being said, my first piece was to be done on a black canvas... uh- convenient for seeing things in a new light," he mutters sarcastically at the end.

"And so- what I- did," he draws out, his back to the group as he carefully takes the cover off of the first piece, "was-- this."

It's large, a black background like stated, and two forms- a man and woman- are morphing together in greys and blacks, but where they meet they burst into a rainbow of colour that stands as an audacious contrast to the darkness of the background.

"Um, so what I did was instead of buying a black canvas, I decided to spray paint-"

"Of course," mutters Zayn's younger sister, and Louis can't help but to snort.

"Hey, no interrupting!" Zayn teases, playfully glaring at her.

"So what I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted," Zayn needles, "is that spray paint was basically the only component of this piece, which was actually quite nice because it was like going back to what I know best."

He stops to clear his throat, "What it's representing is gender, and how gender isn't just like... a pair of socks, but- more like, a drawer of unmatched socks," he raises his eyebrows to emphasize, staring over his own work. “Before, I always thought in a societal norm when it came to gender, and frequently thought it was an interchangeable term with sex."

"But through different people and experiences I found out that there are many different genders than can apply to sex; and that identification is this monstrous yet beautiful discovery. That a male doesn't have to just be on his spectrum, that if he wants, she can be on the female spectrum, or they can choose to be neither. And just because maybe, uh, a male identifies as a female, doesn't mean the things she does have to relate in any way to what society's norms are for the 'female' and 'male.' Just like saying, that if a male does what is considerably feminine things, it doesn't mean he identifies as a female. Masculinity and feminines don't directly relate in any way to, uh, what you are born as, and no one is limited to just one or either if they feel, um, differently," he pauses, making an indistinct noise, "it's still just explosively amazing, the way they all fuse. Not by norms, but, more by- who we are."

Zayn rolls his lips together as he finishes, and turns to the group to let them know he is done with his first piece, and they all clap.

Liam's face is split in half by his smile, clapping the longest and loudest out of such a strong, fond, proudness. It's gross almost, how obviously in love he is with Zayn, the way he is mush just by watching Zayn blush at the small applause.

"Thank you," he says softly, clearing his throat again, "next one then?"

Whilst Zayn uncovers the next canvas that is attached to the stand-up walls, Louis shifts Phoebe, who is intently listening to Zayn, and he hip checks Harry.

Their eyes meet, and Louis smiles, mouthing to him, "Love you."

Harry rolls his eyes, but the blush on his cheeks is all the proof Louis needs to know that he is thinking _I love you too, sap_.

"My next piece is, uh, an oil pastel," he laughs lightly, "it's a bit abstract, so you probably can't tell what it is exactly, but uh," he pauses, looking to Liam.

The entire canvas is covered in bright, Sunday morning colours. The background of the overall picture is where most of the colours blend and take place, the forefront, a warm peachy tan colour, with one curved, dark line running over the hill like structure.

“Actually,” he corrects himself, “not what, but who.”

He bites his lip, looking over his own piece, “I had this mate growing up. He wasn’t my best mate or anything, I mean, that was Lou,” he says, and nods toward him.

“Damn right,” Louis says, smirking to Zayn.

“Lou,” Harry whispers, frowning, “there are babies.”

Louis flushes, and rolls his eyes. But he knows he can't deny the fluttering feeling in his chest when he sees Daisy copying Harry's frown, shaking her little head at him.

“But, uh, he was a good mate. The one usually teased for being nerdy because he was smarter than the rest of us, and chose trouser pants over jeans, and so, he was no Louis. But he was Liam.”

Zayn blushes, refusing to look anywhere but his work, “This image is actually over a year old. I remember it was last summer, and Louis was having a pamper-himself-night, and so I was staying over at Li’s place, and we were both just watching TV in his bed until we fell asleep, then,” he stops to clear his throat again, “in the morning when I woke up, I looked over, and-" he pauses, "and I suddenly realised why I liked to tease him so much.”

Zayn chuckles to himself, “I was kind of in love with him.”

The entire group is silent, fond smiles spreading over the faces as they listen contently. Liam's the only one making noise, small chokes of laughter escaping his toothy grin, because all he wants to do is cry, and laugh, and kiss Zayn again and again.

“And ever since that day I had this image of him in my head. Soft strokes of his face, and blurred background of the rest of the world, and the single eyelash that was on his cheek, and I, uh, I guess you could say I literally and metaphorically and personally saw him all in a new light that morning, when I brushed that eyelash off of his cheek."

Liam sniffles through happy tears, his palm stuck to his eyes to try and stop from crying.

"To ruin that story, though" Zayn smirks, "I did run off that morning, only to find Louis on our couch with chips over his chest, and choking on his drool."

Jay snorts, leaning over to whisper something to Anne who is smiling amused.

Louis groans, loud, burying his flushed face into his little sister's neck.

"Wow, I can't believe I've never seen this side of you before" Harry teases.

Louis glares.

"So um, moving on from Li," Zayn smiles at him, "the next piece is a, uh- sculpture type of art piece."

Zayn removes the cloth from the largest canvas on the wall, revealing line after line of different lengthened cigarettes, along with cigarette boxes.

"So this piece, I've actually been working on the longest. It's supposed to represent recovery, actually."

Zayn rolls his tongue, and pushes his hands into his trouser pockets. "I've even smoking for quite a while now, quite the addiction, really. And I wanted to change that addiction. I also wanted a representation of it though, one for both a personal reminder, and as a visual hope mechanism for others."

"I didn't think recovery from it was going to be that hard to be honest, like, I've always thought of myself of having a pretty strong will, but, uh," he chuckles lightly, "it definitely wasn't easy."

"So this large canvas represents every cig I smoked from the day I started this project. As you can see, at the beginning most of them are down to the end, and uh, glued to the pack they came in, which was just a way to save room on the canvas, and also to show that the entire day I smoked every one fully, but uh, as you can see I slowly worked myself to only smoking half of one each time."

"But you can also see, in the midst of the progress, there are a lot of relapse days, and days where I smoked an entire pack when the day before I only smoked a couple cigs all together. Then, at the end, is a piece of gum I chewed once I realised I had no desire to smoke."

"So it took a few months as you can tell, but it really opened my eyes, I think, mostly in a way where I've learned to admire people's recoveries, from whatever it may be, and to respect the differences in them."

Zayn shifts his jaw, "Sadly though, to my loved ones and such, I still do smoke," he shrugs, "but, the point of it was to no longer have to, and I really don't have to, but sometimes it's just something that's nice to have, but I can proudly say that one pack can last a month, if not longer."

Louis whoops at that, and Zayn rolls his eyes as he moves to the side of the next covered canvas.

"Alright, so this was actually the hardest one for me to do. The requirement was a pencil drawing, and it's not that I can't draw with a pencil, it's more that I couldn't quite figure out what I wanted to do with something as the pencil, so this was my last piece that was completed."

He finally pulls the cover from it, and on the small canvas is a simple pencil drawing of a boy tucking a flower behind another boy's ear. It's Harry and Louis.

"If you can't tell, this is my best mate Lou, and the boy that completely swept him off his feet, Harry."

Both the two boys blush, looking at each other surprised but smiling.

"This moment actually happened when the whole five of us went on a holiday, and we were on our way back from visiting Harry's mum, Anne," Zayn stops talking to point at her. "We stopped at this field to eat, and I look over, and I see this."

Zayn chuckles, "Growing up, Lou was my best mate, and honestly, I knew him better than he knew himself. Uh, anyway, this curly haired boy shows up, and it's like, this entire new side to Louis shows up that none of us have seen before, like I legit thought he was under a spell or summat"

Louis snorts, looking to Harry who is grinning at him.

"He didn't put a spell on him, though, he just made him fall in love," Zayn cocks an eyebrows at Louis, "and before I knew the details, I was a bit of a protective arse to him, because I was just worried for my best mate, but now, I see that- it takes someone special to make Louis fall in love, and, that's Harry."

Jay and Anne coo, gripping each other’s hands. Harry and Louis are both a blushing mess, cheeks painted a hot red and smiles soft, hearts rabbiting against their ribs it's all so intoxicating, this bubble their engulfed in.

"Louis loves you?" Daisy whispers, and Harry looks down with a watery smile.

"Yeah, he does."

"Then I love you too," she whispers, grabbing Harry's face in her little hands and kissing his cheek.

Harry giggles happily, and kisses her cheek right back, smiling when he feels Louis rest his shoulder against his.

"Alright," Zayn says, "my final piece," he sighs, "is charcoal."

He uncovers the smallest tarpaulin, revealing an intensely darkened bird taking flight, but in blurred, thespian lines, its silhouette is falling to the ground.

"This piece, was kind of a sudden realisation for me, and a bit of a, uh- sad one at that."

"Um, the idea behind this is very... emblematic, you could say. If you saw a bird jumping from a tree, you assume it's going to take flight, but what if," he pauses, "what if it doesn't? What if instead, it just- drops?"

Zayn furrows his eyebrows, looking to the floor, "and what if the bird, is actually- a human?"

Louis swallows, and uses his free hand to take Harry's, as Zayn finishes his show.

After Zayn shares his art, he is allowed minimum feedback, and then their group must move on so others can come look at the pieces, hopefully some good sponsors that are willing to give Zayn their numbers for gallery positions, or money opportunities.

So Niall drags his mum and brother back down to the gathering room for some free snacks, Liam's family and Zayn's family walk to a sitting area, happily talking about their boys being together, and Liam of course stays with Zayn, kissing him softly and whispering something private against his lips that makes Zayn blush and smile whilst he waits for a group to gather.

Jay takes the twins- who throw a bit of a fit- from Harry and Louis, and introduces them to Anne and Robin, telling the boys they can go look around a bit without them if they would like.

(Harry and Louis walk around the different floors, hand in hand, looking at all the different art pieces. They don't talk too much, maybe short little comments, but they're happy, almost drunkenly so. They just let themselves happen together; no thought out sentences or phrases, just simple squeezes of the hand and bumping shoulders; communicating through a physical type of tongues that only they know.

 

"What do you think it means?" Louis whispers to Harry over the canvas in front of them. It's a scribbled charcoal drawing of a naked man holding his limp dick.

"Well, uh," Harry blinks. "Well," he states again.

Louis nods. "Yeah," he agrees.

"Yeah."

They step to the next piece.

 

"Like, if you close this eye, and then you close- this eye," Louis says slowly, "it becomes very... abstract and almost-"

"Please don't say it," Harry begs in a whisper.

"Almost-"

"Don't."

"Beautiful."

"Oh, God," Harry groans, turning away.

"Hey," Louis laughs, "it was more painful for me than you!”

"You just called straight sex beautiful."

"My eyes were closed!"

"You saw it before you said it!"

"Maybe," Louis starts, "maybe- I was picturing you!"

Harry raises his eyebrows, "Yeah, then what were you thinking about?"

Louis hums, biting his lips, leaning in close. "Thinking about what a pretty cock you have."

Harry reaches out and takes the end of his tie, twirling it slowly as he bites at his lip, “Yeah?”)

The art show is only on the first few floors of the building. Harry and Louis end up in one of the upper stairwells that wasn't blocked off, but is completely empty. It’s all like some teenage libido and too much deprivation that has them having to touch each other; has Harry pressed to the wall, with warm lips moving slowly against his own.

Louis’ hands move from Harry’s hair to his waist to his arse to pinning Harry's wrists to the wall, taking complete control of their kiss as he licks over Harry’s bottom lip, edging his tongue inside. It is filthy and drawn out, especially the noise that emits from Harry's throat when Louis presses his leg in between Harry's, slowly rocking against him.

They know they're at a loss for time, that they’re technically in public and they can hear the chatter from people in the lower staircases, and _god_ , it just makes it so much hotter. Hotter in the way that even the smallest of gasps seem too loud, seems to bounce off the walls in a firm echo that makes them press their lips tighter together to try and swallow more of the noises, and even _that_ makes noise. A wet noise from how roughly they are moving their mouths together, teeth scraping teeth.

Louis rocks his hips down smoothly, grinding against Harry especially hard, and a sweet, catharsis moan slips into the open air.

“Say it,” Louis whispers against Harry's bright red lips.

“W-what?” is all Harry can get out, wanting desperately to grab Louis’ hair and yank his mouth back to resume the dirty kiss, but he also finds himself never wanting to leave Louis’ restraints, loving the way Louis can pin him up and make him enjoy it as if the reason not to enjoy it wasn't there anymore.

“What we talked about,” he whispers, eyes black with lust as he stares into Harry’s desperate ones, “please just- fuck- please call me it.”

“I- I,” Harry pauses, biting his lip, “daddy.”

Louis shudders, his nails digging into Harry's wrist.

"Please, daddy."

Louis kisses Harry hard, moaning filthily into his mouth.  He finally let’s go of Harry's wrist, moving his hand to palm him through his dress pants.

"Oh," Harry moans at the promising friction, "oh please."

Harry leans his head back against the wall, exposing his neck to Louis who takes full advantage of it. He licks up his throat, stopping right under his chin to nibble ever so lightly. Just enough to leave a small, questioning red mark.

“You like that?” Louis whispers, digging the heel of his palm into Harry’s crotch, enjoying the way Harry begins to shake under the touch. “Like it when daddy touches you?”

Harry nods so fast Louis thinks he might get whiplash, his eyes, clenching close as he tries to catch a shuddering breath.

Louis kisses up his throat, nibbling softly and careful not to leave any marks that are too dark, slowly sliding his fingers up Harry’s length from where it is prominently showing through his trousers. Slow and teasing, he traces the outline of Harry’s cock with just his fingertips, feeling it twitch beneath him.

“Lou, don’t- please,” Harry pants quietly, biting on his lip.

Louis retracts his hand immediately, heart beating faster because Harry’s just never- he's never told him ‘no’ or ‘don't’ and he’s just worried that maybe he _has_  crossed a bad line.

Worried until Harry’s whining- _loud_ \- and he is fumbling with the buttons on his pants to get them undone.

“Didn’t- wet- I’m _wet_ ,” Harry tries to form a coherent sentence as he pushes his pants down, not worried about the people in the staircases below hearing him as he shudders, so worked up that when he opens his eyes Louis can see tears forming in the corners.

“Fuck,” Louis breathes, “Fuck- okay.”

He looks down to see a wet patch soaking the front of Harry’s pink cotton panties, and Louis realises Harry wanted him to stop before the wet spot formed onto his trousers as well.

His cock is obscenely bulging the thin panties, and Louis can see every line and indentation of Harry’s cock so wonderfully.

He slips his hand down the front of Harry’s panties, immediately feeling the heat and dampness radiating off of his boy's cock. It makes his mouth water, his own cock ache, and he just has to wrap his hand around him. And he does.

Harry sighs in relief, his eyes fluttering open, and he smiles lightly at Louis. Louis returns the smile, leaning in and pecking Harry’s swollen lips with his own. “Beautiful boy,” he murmurs against them, “so pretty.”

Harry is heavy in his hand, leaking from the tip gorgeous amounts of precum, wetting his length. He's so swollen, an angry red ready for release. Louis can feel his cock pulsing, twitching in his tight fist. It's obscene, all the pretty choking noises coming from Harry's lips from just Louis gripping his cock.

He whimpers, “Daddy,” and Louis’ heart aches and so does his dick that’s still trapped away in his pants.

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” Louis murmurs sweetly, using his free hand to push Harry’s curls that have fallen in his face away, tucking the longer pieces behind his ear. His hand works his cock achingly slow, his thumb dragging over the tip of his dick and smearing the gathered precum down his hot length, “people will hear you, gonna come up and see what that noise is.”

Harry shakes his head ‘no’, swallowing, “Just you,” he whispers, bucking his hips up, “just you, d-” he cuts off, closing his eyes.

“C’mon baby, you can say it,” Louis whispers, squeezing around Harry’s length. He leans in, taking Harry’s bottom lip between his own and kissing him softly.

“Just you,” he shudders when Louis presses his thumb into the sweet spot just below the head of his cock, “just you, daddy.”

Louis smiles, kissing Harry’s jaw. “Okay baby,” he murmurs, “what do you want?”

“Palm?” Harry asks, “rub the top… palm.”

Louis kisses down the side of Harry’s neck, “anything for you, sweetheart.”

He withdraws his hand that is beside Harry’s head and uses it to push Harry’s panties down his thighs so Harry’s cock is completely out and showing. He keeps one hand wrapped around him, pumping him at a nice, comfortable pace. His other hand cups the head of his cock, precum dribbling onto his palm, as he slowly rocks it over his sensitive tip.

“How does that feel?” Louis asks in his soft voice, the one he always uses for these kind of moments, “does it feel good?”

“Yes,” Harry whispers, “so good, feels so good.”

Louis smiles, fondly, looking at Harry's precious flushed cheeks and his glossy eyes. “I love you, princess.”

Harry whimpers, much louder, and it breaks off as it turns into a low pant. “Yours.”

Louis smirks, “Mine. That’s right,” Louis agrees, “you're all daddy’s, huh?”

“Oh,” Harry gasps, “yes, yes.”

Louis speeds up the movement of his hand, pumping Harry’s cock faster, feeling it throb in his hand, soft drag of the damp, slick skin, so hard in his hand. He presses his palm harder down onto the tip of his cock, adding more pressure and making Harry’s gasp break into different syllable parts so beautifully.

It’s so tastefully erotic, making Harry fall apart in a public stairwell. People are below in fancy clothes, using pretentious words to describe art, when the real art piece is right here in his hands, panting and moaning with a flushed faced. Harry's pretty eyelashes shuddering against his cheeks, lips and thighs trembling, his cock so heavy and red. He’s so beautiful; this gorgeous mess that is desperate for release, so reactive to every little touch.

“How close are you, baby?” Louis murmurs. He nuzzles his nose against Harry’s, feeling his hot breath fan over his lips.

“Close,” Harry whimpers desperately, “‘m so close, daddy.”

Louis smiles, “Okay, sweetie.”

He flicks his wrist, keeping his pace fast, but not so fast it starts to hurt, letting Harry buck into his fist and rotate his hips to rub his cockhead against his palm at his own pace. His moans get quieter, heavy breathing and small gasps, erratic choking noises and jerking and _god_ , he is so close Louis can see it, can _feel_ it. He's melting in his hands in mere minutes.

Harry chokes on a sob, and is coming into Louis’ fist like it’s the first time he has ever come, like teenage libido mixed with too much weed and pretty boys, fuck, it's so good.

Louis kisses his cheek. “There you go,” he murmurs, fisting him slowly through his orgasm, “beautiful boy.”

Harry replies with an indistinct noise, floating among a hazy wave of his post-orgasm afterglow. Louis can feel his heartbeat thrumming through every piece of him, every time he kisses his cheek.

When his frantic breathing slows, all he can do is hum happily, drunk on the delicious euphoria that only Louis can bring him, the lovely dexterity of his hands working him to heaven.

Louis laughs lightly, finally letting go of Harry’s cock. “You messed in my hand.”

Harry snorts, his mind so, so hazy, “give’it here.”

Louis’ heart thumps, and Harry takes his hand, slipping each of Louis’ fingers into his mouth and sucking off his come, licking it from his palm.

Louis groans, “I’m already hard enough, thank you very much.”

Harry snorts, “Want me to suck you off again?”

Louis squints at Harry, before dropping to his knees. Harry furrows his eyebrows, and watches as Louis rolls his eyes and fishes out Harry’s phone from his dress pants that are at his ankles. He finds it, clicks it on, and sighs.

“Not enough time,” Louis pouts, but it isn’t there long, “but there is enough time to do this.”

And that’s all the warning Harry gets before his exhausted dick is in Louis’ mouth and he is whining, pushing at Louis’ head.

“Loouu,” Harry drags out, knees pressing together, “sensitive.”

Louis snorts, tucking his spent cock away in his panties, and then pulling his trousers up as well and doing them up for him.

“I was just cleaning it off,” Louis smirks, “unless you wanted to do that too, selfish prick.”

Harry makes another indistinct whining noise, flicking Louis on the nose in protest.

Louis stands back up and wipes the knees of his pants off. Then he has Harry's face in his hands, his thumb brushing over Harry's red lips. "Beautiful," he murmurs, kissing him softly.

Harry laughs a breathless laugh, nudging Louis’ nose with his own, and looking down at his lips.

“What’re we going to do about this?” he asks softly, tracing Louis’ dick.

Louis slaps his hand away, “Well if you stop touching it, it’ll go away on its own, ya’ wank,” Louis scrunches his nose up and pins Harry’s hands to the wall once again, “let’s just sit here for a while, maybe tell me some of your god awful jokes, that’ll get me soft.”

Harry frowns and Louis lets go of one of Harry’s hands to run his thumb along his bottom lip again.

“I’m joking,” Louis drags out to him, “not about the jokes being awful, but about them getting me soft. Your voice is just too pretty.”

Harry squints, pout still on his lips. “My jokes are funny.”

Louis pushes his bottom lip out and nods, “Okay,” he says like he’s talking to a baby, “whatever you say.”

Harry glares, and quickly moves his free hand to Louis’ crotch to yank on his dick.

(When they finally go back down to the main floor and meet up with the others, Niall looks at them and snorts.

“Don’t,” Louis mouths to him.

Niall just laughs harder, and turns away, pretending to wipe away tears.

It’s _not_ obvious.

 

They all go out to dinner afterwards, reservations made by the university at an Italian restaurant. It’s a tight squeeze, but they all manage at a long string of tables. Niall sits with Gemma and Lottie, arguing with them over the latest fashion trends, whilst Jay, Anne and Niall's mum sit with each other. Robin, Louis’ stepdad, and Liam's father all make easy conversation, and Liam and Zayn's mums are both caught up in some internet hoax. Zayn sits between his sister and Liam, listening to them coo over his artwork to embarrass him.

Louis and Harry sit across from Gemma, Lottie, and Niall, Daisy and Phoebe back in their arms. The four of them order make-your-own pizzas off the kids menu. Each of them gets two crusts, one for a dessert pizza and another for a normal one, and they giggle as they make them together.

“Harry,” Daisy draws out, “you can’t put mushrooms on pizza,” she wrinkles her nose, and ignores her own pizza to start picking off the mushrooms Harry had put on his.

“What, why not?” Harry laughs, tightening his grip on the girl's waist as she squirms in his lap and tries to reach further to get the last ones.

“Because mushrooms are gross,” she says incredulously, dumping all the mushrooms onto Niall's plate who isn’t even paying attention to it, too busy with his conversation.

“Yeah, Harrryy,” Louis says in a high pitched voice, “mushrooms are gross.”

Harry looks over to his boyfriend to see him and Phoebe dumping chocolate syrup all over their dessert pizza. He gasps, “Why are you making the dessert one first!”

“Haven’t you seen Remember Me?” Phoebe says, scrunching her little nose up just like her big brother, and Louis snorts and gives Harry the same look, agreeing with her.

Daisy looks back to Harry and turns in his lap, “Don’t worry,” she whispers into his ear, “they’re gonna be jealous when we’re making ours. It’s gonna be lots better.”

“Lots more?” Harry asks, eyes widening.

Daisy nods and giggles.

“Secrets, secrets are no fun! Secrets, secrets hurt someone!” Louis shouts at them, and Jay glares at him from where she’s sitting down the table.

“Louis, shut up.”

Harry snorts at him, and Louis pouts. “Secret, secrets are no fun,” he mumbles under his breath, dumping white chocolate chips onto the dessert pizza, “secrets, secrets hurt someone.”

“Harry, Harry,” Daisy draws his attention back by pulling on his bow-tie, “want me to show you something cool?”

Harry’s eyes widen again, “Something cool?”

The little girl nods, “Gimme your hand.”

Harry offers her his hand, and she takes it in her little tiny one.

“Okay, so what you do,” she starts, eyebrows furrowed, “is you…” she trails off, trying to shove an olive onto Harry’s fingertip.

She tries again and again, each time the olive breaking, and her little tongue that's poking from the side of her mouth withdraws. “Something’s wrong with you.”

Louis cackles.

“Why are your fingers so big?” she asks, confused.

“Yeah, Harold,” Louis teases, flashing his dainty hand, “something’s wrong with you.”

Harry fake pouts, watching as Daisy still tries to shove more olives onto his fingers.

“Hey,” Niall says, looking at his plate confused and then up at the group, “where’d all these mushrooms come from?”)

A large hotel string is one of the university art show sponsors, and to help out they offered all travelling family members a two night stay. So Harry and Louis finally part ways, going to their own families hotel rooms to visit for a while.

(Jay has Louis wrapped up in her arms in the hotel bed, her baby boy's head tucked under her neck as she rubs his back. “You’re in _love_ ,” she whispers softly, kissing the top of his head.

“I am,” he replies softly.

“I knew you loved him, but not this much.”

“Is it that obvious?” Louis whines, a blush filling his cheeks.

Jay snorts. “Oh yeah, it’s obvious."

Lottie agree from the bathroom where she is taking her makeup off, and Louis groans.

“C’mon, give me some details,” Jay teases, pulling back to see his face, “who tops?”

Louis chokes, “Mum!”

“What,” she draws out, raising her eyebrows, “it’s just a question!”

“I’m not answering that,” he mumbles embarrassed.

“Well, fine then,” she pouts, going in a different direction, “is he good to you?”

“Obviously,” Louis says blatantly.

“Okay,” Louis mum shakes her head, “is he different than the others?”

“Obviously,” Louis says again, giggling.

“Boobear,” his mum says, “this is when you're supposed to tell me all about him.”

Louis groans at the old name, and he hides his face. “He’s great.”

“Great?” Jay says in boredom.

"Yeah," Louis mumbles, "and really sweet, and he's pretty," he pauses, "and soft. He's really soft," he pauses again, "he's smart too. And funny, even though I tell him he isn't. And he's warm," he sighs happily, "he's very warm."

Jay smiles, her eyes crinkling the way her son’s do.

"Very in love," she murmurs.)

(Harry settles on the bed, a pillow in his lap and a smile on his face as he officially meets Robin, who has an arm wrapped around his mum.

He smiles and laughs, and suddenly Gemma is tackling him and pinning him to the bed.

"He's so cute!" she teases, tickling Harry’s sides.

"Gemma!" Harry shrieks, "stop!"

"Nope, give me the details!" she laughs, settling on his lap, "is he a good kisser? Toucher?" She gasps, whispering, "How big is he?"

Harry blushes, turning his head into the bed and mumbling, "Yes, yes, and very."

Gemma smirks, "He tops doesn't he?"

Harry groans, but nods, and Gemma snickers, kissing his cheek before rolling off of him and pulling him close to her chest, "My baby brother found the one, how cute! I can already tell you want Daisy and Phoebe to be flower girls!”

Harry chokes, "What are you talking about?"

Gemma rolls her eyes. "Mum already told me, idiot. You're madly in love."

"Mum," Harry groans loudly.

"You know I can't keep secrets from your sister."

"Speaking of secrets," Gemma starts, "where did you two run off too during the art show?")

When they finally do return home, it's with pleased smiles and hands entwine. Harry presses Louis into the mattress and kisses him soft and slow, whispering over and over again how much he loves him.

 

 

**vi.**

The next day is spent out with their families. Harry and Louis meet them in their hotel rooms early in the morning, and they all go out for breakfast at Harry and Louis' favourite diner.

It's early morning chatter, and complaints of the hotel walls being too thin. They talk with their mouths full, and laugh too loud, and Harry and Louis keep giving each other this look, one that sort of splits the air molecules to spell 'forever' because that's all it feels like, like this could be their forever. Their families are together and it's all laughs and smiles, and it's like they already _are_ a big family, really.

The twins have syrup covering their faces and fingers, and Gemma takes them to the bathroom and cleans them up like they're her own little sisters, fixing their hair back for them again and letting them put on some of her lip-gloss. They adore her, more than they adore even Harry and Louis.

After breakfast they go through town together, looking through the shops until its warmed up a bit, and they drive the half an hour drive to the reservoir. The beach area isn't too crowded yet, and there's only a couple of boats out on the water. Gemma and Lottie both sit on the dock, their feet hanging over the edge and dipping into the lake water as they talk like sisters.

Meanwhile, Louis has given in to the twins (and Harry's) pleads to let them bury him in the sand, and he is currently stiff in the warm powdery dirt, the twins packing sand over his shorts-covered legs. Harry is covering his chest with it, bathing in Louis' pleading looks to get him out. All Harry does though is flick his nipples and pack more sand onto him.

After Louis manages to free himself, he tickles all three of them until they're almost peeing themselves, and then he buys everyone ice cream, asking Harry for his family's favourite flavours and surprising them with the sugary sweetness.

They get hot dogs at one of the vendors at the reservoir for lunch, and spend their one day together relaxing in each other's company. Jay gets time to steal Harry away and she hugs him close and pets his curls, kisses his cheek and says, “Thank god Louis fell in love with a sweetheart like you.”

They have one last family dinner together, except this time it is just McDonalds at the park. It’s much calmer; quiet as they just enjoy the cooling end-of-the-summer air. The twins are fast asleep in the grass, and everyone else is yawning from the long day. It isn’t long before they are all turning in early from the long day, giving each other sad goodnight hugs.

Harry and Louis are exhausted from the busy day, and after they take a warm shower together filled with gentle kisses, they curl up in the bed sheets together, and go to sleep.

The next day is when their families have to leave. On their walk over to the hotel, Harry and Louis stop and buy a bit more than a dozen doughnuts for them, and they eat one small breakfast together in the midst of busy packing. It's a long drive home for both families and they all hug each other goodbye, Anne and Jay exchanging numbers, and Lottie and Gemma as well. Both Harry and Louis are on the verge of crying, saying goodbye to the twins, Daisy taking Harry’s face in her tiny hands and kissing his cheek. “You're my favourite princess.”

Gemma has a hard time letting Louis and the twins go as well, but an even harder time letting her baby brother go.

Anne and Jay both have tears in their eyes, saying goodbye to their boys, hugging each of them tightly and murmuring sweet messages into their ears, before kissing their cheeks and finally letting them go.

Harry and Louis walk home, hands in their sweatpants pockets and their smiles tired. It’s a bit of a soft day. A bittersweet melancholy that sits in stomachs wrong when you swallow it's flawed victuals. A day where when they bump shoulders, they don't glance up to each other, but keep their eyes to the ground, allowing it to see their shy smiles.

Harry yawns putting the key in the door, and Louis wraps his arms around his waist out of habit, kissing the back of his neck. “How about we go back to bed?”

Harry nods gently, relaxing into Louis’ arms before opening the door and waddling inside with Louis attached to his back.

“I’ll go feed the fish, you go get comfy,” Louis murmurs into his neck, inhaling him softly.

Harry simply hums softly in response, letting Louis let go of him before he kicks his shoes off by the door, and goes to their bedroom.

Louis walks into the kitchen to the spot on the counter where their little fish is, and feeds him, watching it bop as it eats for a bit before he goes to lock the door. He quickly fixes his shoes, making sure they're straightened next to Harry's, knowing it always annoys Harry when he has to do it himself.

He finds Harry with his back to the wall, curled up in the blankets and eyes on the door, waiting for him to come in. Louis smiles softly, pulling his shirt over his head, and slipping his sweats down as he makes his way to the bed. “‘S’kay if I sleep naked?” Louis asks, waiting for Harry’s nod before slipping his pants down and crawling into bed.

“Since when do I care if you're naked?” Harry murmurs softly. He waits for Louis to get comfortable under the covers and to open his arms up, before curling into his side. He sighs in contentment, resting his head against Louis' bare chest.

“Dunno,” Louis murmurs softly, trailing his fingers gently down Harry’s back and then up again, “jus’ thought I’d ask.”

Harry smiles, "You're weird." He closes his eyes, still smiling, and he throws one of his legs over Louis' to pull their bodies closer together.

Louis snorts, " _You're_  weird.”

“Shut up, idiot,” Harry smiles, burying his head into Louis’ shoulder.

Louis kisses Harry's forehead, tightening his arms around him. “Well, I love you too.”

  


 

**vii.**

Louis wakes up sometime later to find a puddle of drool on his shoulder and a hard dick pressed to his thigh. It takes him a moment to realise what it is, yawning into the afternoon, but then he does realise, and he looks to Harry, finding him still asleep, and he snorts.

Then he smiles. He smiles big, because lately, everything's been playing in perfect key; warmth and happiness, him and Harry happening together, _beautiful_. Louis carefully turns onto his side and pulls Harry into his chest. He suddenly feels much more awake, feeling Harry’s length pressing into him, hot and heavy. He traces Harry’s jaw with his thumb, trying to edge him from his sleep.

Staring over Harry's features, all he can really think about is the way the word 'daddy' sounds slipping from his plump lips. It sounds so filthy, so dirty, the innocent word panted into his mouth, his ear, his throat. Louis never once thought it would be a thing for him, never once thought it would be a thing for Harry. But now it's out, and he never wants to stop with it, never wants to stop feeling like he is something more to Harry than just his boyfriend at these specific times. More importantly, the amount of trust that goes into these specific moments, Harry trusting him that he'll give him exactly what he needs.

Louis traces his eyelids, and Harry's eyes slowly flitter open, a small, squeak of a yawn escaping his lips. His eyes are a warm green, blinking and dazed, and he brings his hand up to wipe at the drool on his chin.

Louis smiles at him, cupping his jaw. “Hi, baby.”

That's when Harry finally becomes aware of his erection, the simple word making his tummy stir, and he blushes, hiding his face in Louis’ shoulder, but he also shamelessly ruts into Louis’ thigh.

“Can I touch, sweetheart?” Louis asks sweetly, grabbing Harry’s chin and pulling his face up.

Harry whines in reply, nodding eagerly. He pulls back to give Louis room to reach down and fist his dick, but instead, Louis draws him closer to his body, wrapping his arm around Harry and trailing his hand down his spine, right over his plump little bum, and he begins kneading the skin softly.

Harry keens, pushing back into his palm, moaning softly. Louis can’t even resist himself, letting his lips cover Harry’s as his soft noises are swallowed. He trails his fingers down between Harry's arsecheeks, brushing a dry finger over his tight, little hole. He's just touching, rubbing and tracing and feeling; so slow and sensual, Harry gasping beautifully into his mouth at the intoxicating feeling.

"Want me to take care of you, baby?" Louis whispers, his mouth pressed to Harry's ear, hot breath warming over his pearly skin and making him shiver.

"Yes," Harry breathes out, inhaling shakily.

"Yes, who?" Louis asks. His free arm is wrapped under Harry's body and he uses it to run up and down Harry's spine softly, just bathing in the feel of Harry's milky, smooth skin.

"Yes," he pauses, biting his lip, "daddy."

Louis smiles, and he makes sure it's pressing into Harry's skin so Harry can feel how happy it makes him, how good. He pulls out his arm that is underneath Harry's body and reaches under their stacks of pillows for their bottle of lube. When he finds it, he slides his arm back under Harry's body and flicks the cap open. His finger that is brushing over Harry's hole slides back up his boy's back until it is meeting his other hand and he can pour lube onto his fingers. A bit drips onto Harry's back, and it makes him shiver, rutting into Louis' thigh again.

"Aw, sweetheart," Louis pouts, kissing Harry's cheek, "'m'sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

Harry makes an indistinct noise in reply, his eyelashes fluttering, small hips starting to stutter so gently against Louis' thigh.

Louis smiles, dropping the lube and spreading Harry's cheeks apart with his thumb and pinky. One of his three coated fingers slowly trace Harry's hole, making it flutter at the lovely and intrusive finger that presses against his sweet, little spot.

"So beautiful, y'know that baby?" he whispers. His eyes are closed, cheek pressed against Harry's, but he can feel his beauty, every piece of him, his soft breath hitting his skin, desperate moans and squeaks filling the air around them.

He slowly edges his finger inside and he can feel Harry's hot walls clenching hungrily around him. It drives Louis wild, the way Harry's arse draws his fingers inside like he doesn't want to be left empty. He traces the inside walls, slowly, deliberately, taking his time with just one finger even though he knows Harry wants more.

"Please, daddy." Harry eventually murmurs, pushing back on Louis' hand.

"Please what, baby?" Louis asks innocently, pulling his head back so he can stare at Harry. (Harry whose eyes are wide and bottom lip swollen from being chewed on,) "what do you want daddy to do?"

"Another," Harry asks softly, quietly, "will you add another one, please?"

Louis kisses his nose, then down to his lips, biting the bottom one softly. "Okay, baby. So polite."

He pulls his finger out slowly, deliberately hooking on Harry's rim to get him to rut against his thigh again, a fluttery moan escaping his pretty lips. Louis kisses his lips softly, simple little pecks, one right after the other as he slowly eases two fingers into Harry's tight heat. Harry's mouth opens, a low moan easing from his lips and Louis continues to kiss him, curving the two fingers in Harry's hole and rubbing against the sweet spot that makes Harry tremble.

"Good?" Louis murmurs, his eyes on Harry's lips, watching him bite and open them in soft whimpers.

"Yes, yes," Harry says quickly, trying to fuck down on Louis' hand.

Louis uses his free arm that is beneath Harry's waist to pull the boy tighter to his chest, lining them up differently now where Harry's cock bumps his own that is heavy and hard between his legs so they both get relief. Louis gasps against Harry's lips at the same time Harry does, their breath mingling deliciously. He begins to scissor Harry open, less finesse and more rush to get Harry open, get him whining and whimpering and desperate for his cock.

"You can add another, daddy," Harry murmurs breathlessly once Louis returns to just gently rubbing his slick walls.

Louis doesn't even warn him before slipping his third one inside of him, slight resistance as he pushes it in alongside the others. Harry chokes on his inhale, so reactive to every little touch Louis has to offer, and his small gasp turns into an outright filthy moan, immediately rocking his hips down onto Louis' hand, finally feeling somewhat fuller.

"Please-" Harry whimpers, "please."

"It's okay, baby," Louis murmurs into his ear, kissing his temple, "you're okay."

Harry nods, closing his eyes tight and trying to even out his breathing. He slowly rocks his hips back, making a nice, even pace for fucking himself.

Louis twists his fingers inside of Harry, scissoring and opening them up inside of him to open him up. He rubs Harry's velvety-slicked walls, lets his nails drag inside of him so lightly, pulling the desperate moans from his boy's swollen, red lips. He drags his fingers out, rubbing his slick fingers over Harry's stretched rim, pinching the edges and rolling his thumb in circles over Harry's rim before slipping them back in with ease. He feels so tight around Louis' fingers, wet and tight and hot, clenching around him.

"Can I fuck you, baby?" he breathes out, his own breath turning ragged just from feeling Harry around his fingers.

Harry groans, nodding. He reaches around and pulls Louis' hand out of his arse, weakly getting onto his knees. Louis is on his knees too, and he wraps his arms around Harry's neck and kisses him deep; two hot mouths pressed firmly to one another, tongues wet and slick and rolling around, licking and lapping. Harry pushes Louis back so he falls to his bum on the mattress.

"What're you doing, love?" Louis breathes roughly, pulling back from the kiss.

"I wanna ride you, daddy," Harry sweetly states.

"Fuck," Louis moans, "daddy would like that so much."

Harry giggles, grabbing the lube before plopping down in Louis' now crossed legs, wrapping his own legs around Louis' waist. "You can do it, daddy," Harry says softly, handing the lube over to Louis and then wrapping his arms around his neck.

Louis smiles at his baby boy, his cheeks flushed a pretty red, and eyes a shimmering green. "Okay, baby," he whispers through his smile, leaning in and pecking Harry's lips once.

He uncaps the lube once again and dumps it over his fingers. "Can you lift up a little for me, sweetheart?" he murmurs, glancing up through his eyelashes to his boy who nods eagerly for him.

Harry unwraps his legs from around Louis and lifts his hips, pressing his flushed chest against Louis'.

"Thank you, baby," Louis says softly into his neck, slicking his cock up with the lube. "You ready?"

Louis feels Harry nod, his long curls bouncing, and he carefully lines his cock up to Harry's hole. He circles the head around his puckered entrance, smearing his precum over and around, before he slowly begins to push Harry down with his hands on his hips, his tightness wrapping around him.

Harry takes in a sharp breath of air, sinking down onto Louis' thick cock until he has bottomed out and he is sitting in Louis' lap again. It's then that he slowly wraps his legs back around Louis' waist, choking on a gasp as he somehow falls deeper onto the dick inside of him. His breathing is ragged already, eyes closed, and he curls into Louis' chest, just waiting.

Soft fingers rub circles into his hipbones, and a soothing voice is in his ear. "Whenever you're ready, darling."

Harry nods slowly, the pleasure of just having Louis' cock in him so overwhelming, it could send him into a deep sleep; the warmth of Louis and his arousal surrounding them, intoxicating and full and fuck- _yes_. He decidedly wraps his arms around Louis' neck, and lays his head on his shoulder.

"'m ready," he murmurs, eyelashes fluttering closed as he swallows.

"Okay sweetie," Louis whispers. He slowly rocks his hips up, nice and slow and sensual, letting Harry feel the drag of his cock inside of his hot, clenching hole. It's so fucking hot, really. Because Harry's ragged breath is fanning over his neck, and he can hear every single one of Harry's little gasped words, his tiny sighs and moans filtering right to his ears and only making him want to fuck him more.

"Love you so much," he whispers softly, leaning down to plant a light kiss to Harry's shoulder. His hips are still rocking up incredibly slow, letting his cock hit different spots as he rotates his hips and thrusts again.

The heavy noise of skin slapping skin fills the room, intoxicating the both of them, their low pants and hot breath making their bodies shiver against each other. Louis looks down at Harry, sees his eyes hooded and fluttering, gaze lost in pleasure. His cheeks are so pretty and pink, and his lips a shiny red, slightly parted as he mumbles 'daddy, daddy, daddy,' over and over again. His blunt nails dig softly into his back, his body rocking up and down as Louis thrusts inside of him.

Louis moves one of his hands that is gripping Harry's waist to his back, rubbing it soothingly. He slowly runs them up to Harry's head, tangling his fingers in his pretty boy's curls and scratching his scalp softly. It's such a loving embrace, Louis holding his baby who is wrapped around him, fucking him nice and slow and hot.

Harry finally lifts his head, smiling dazedly, his eyes on Louis' lips. He leans in and puckers his lips, planting his to Louis'. He kisses him big and sloppy, smiling.

"Love you, daddy," he murmurs, pulling away with a string of saliva following. He licks his lips, closing his eyes and savouring it. Then he is unwrapping his legs from around Louis' waist, Louis slipping out of him as he gets onto his knees so he is straddling Louis' hips. He reaches behind him and grabs Louis' cock, guiding it back to his hole and sinking down onto it with a throaty moan.

He bounces with eager, keeping a grip on Louis' shoulder to steady himself, and the other is tangled in Louis' hair, pulling his head back so he can lean down and slip his tongue into his mouth. Hot, dirty kissing, tongues out and filthy groping. Louis squeezes each of Harry's arecheeks, pulling them apart and pushing them back together every time Harry bounces up.

"Harry, _oh_ ," Louis gasps, Harry literally grinding his arse down onto his cock and then rocking on it, letting the tip of Louis' cock rub his prostate, "Harry- Harry- _baby_."

Harry yanks Louis' head back again by his hair, leaning down and letting his lips rest right above Louis' as he pants, his eyes staring directly into Louis', and they're so connected, their arousal pouring into each other as they moan and claw and sweat and rock the bed under their lust.

"So good, daddy," Harry pants, licking over Louis' bottom lip, "so good."

Harry pulls up, leaving just the tip of Louis' cock inside of him, and he rotates his hips, circling around his head and letting precum bubble into his arse. Louis chokes though, his head thrown back in a heady lust, so close to the edge already. His hands move back to Harry's hips, his nails digging into the precious skin there, and he yanks Harry down onto his cock, rough and hard, and Harry whimpers loudly before going right back to rocking his hips, faster, faster, his little 'ah, ah, ah's' filling the room like Louis' cock is filling him.

"Touch'me daddy," Harry slurs, drunk on his arousal, "please touch me."

Louis nods, always giving into his baby boy. He shoves his hand into Harry's face, rubbing it over his lips. Harry takes the hint and licks over his palm, filthy noise falling from his mouth, and Louis finally takes hold of Harry's cock, wet palm gliding over it as he pumps it fast. Harry's precum is dripping over his cockhead, and down his length, which just adds to the lubrication.

His bouncing starts to lose its finesse, especially when Louis starts thrusting up to match Harry's pace, their moans mingling in the air together. Then Harry starts making these little noises, these half moan, half choking noises, and Louis' opens his eyes to look at him. Harry eyes are clenched close, his cheeks down to his chest flushed in a pretty pink, and he's fucking himself down on Louis so erratically; the lust-covered look on Harry drives Louis into a frenzy, and in a swift movement he is pulling out of Harry and laying him out on the bed, already back between his legs and thrusting inside of him at a quick, rough pace.

Harry really does choke then, his head turning into the pillows and he groans. "Oh- _Louis_! Fuck me, fuck me, _fuck_  me!”

Louis does exactly that, thrusting fast and deep, in search of his orgasm, the tip of his cock relentless to Harry's prostate.

"So fucking hot, Harry- baby, fuck." Louis grunts, rocking into Harry at the same quick pace.

Louis reaches down, taking hold of Harry's cock again, and he begins to fist him quickly, right in time with his thrusts. Harry's body is completely shaking, trembling under the heaviness of his fervour, and he's not even making noise anymore, mouth open, and little choking noises falling from his filthy lips.

And then he's coming. Hot, white ropes painting his flushed chest.

Louis nearly collapses, Harry clenching around his cock. One, two, three more thrusts and he's coming deep in Harry's arse, filling him up with his hot come, and then he _does_ collapse, right on top of Harry' come-covered chest.

Louis swears his entire body is thrumming with his heartbeat, fast and rapid and overwhelmed, floating through his hazy orgasm. He barely has enough energy to breathe, but he still manages to lift his head and press a few light kisses to Harry's face, peppering him in love.

Harry takes in a long, shaky breath. His eyes closing. He can feel Louis' breath against his neck, short and a bit ragged, his heartbeat thumping against his own.

"Sleep?" Harry murmurs, his eyelids already slipping again.

Louis nods into his neck. "Then bath."

"Then bath," Harry agrees.

"You should-" Louis' smirk turns into a yawn, "you should call me daddy again."

Harry snorts, wrapping his arms around Louis' back and rolling them so they're both on their sides. "Fine," Harry smirks tiredly, "clean this come off of me, daddy."

Louis 'hmphs,' smirking with his own eyes closed as he searches and then finds Harry's hand. "Okay, baby." He quickly wipes Harry’s hand down as much of Harry's chest as he can get before Harry yanks his hand out of Louis' with a whine.

"You're so _gross_ ," Harry complains, wiping his hand on their duvet.

"If you shut up and let me sleep," Louis whines, "I'll eat you out later and let you call me daddy."

(And later, Louis has Harry on his knees and gripping the lid of the bathtub, his tongue flicking over his stretched hole. Desperate little moans of "daddy, daddy, daddy, please," falling from Harry's lips as Louis digs his nails into his waist and fucks his tongue in as far as it will go. And it's good. It's really fucking good.)

 

 

**viii.**

Louis’ in his skinny jeans and a tank top hoodie. His hair is pulled back with a black headband and he’s on his board, hands in his hoodie pocket, skating down the empty pavement. It’s the beginning of September, and UNI is going to be starting in just under a few weeks, so he and Zayn had to meet up at a later time due to more people being present on the campus.

He finds his best mate practising ollies by the stairs, cursing at himself when he slips and messes up.

"Rodney Mullen would be ashamed," he calls out, slowing his board so he can step off of it and pick it up.

Zayn flips him off.

Louis walks over to him, holding his board against his hip and smiling. “Why hello your pretension arse,” Louis coughs, “I mean- _artist_.”

Zayn snorts, shaking his head. "Don't pretend like you didn't like the piece of you and H."

He scoffs, popping his hip. "That's because I was taking it as a much better apology than your last one."

Zayn rolls his eyes, standing up on his board and moving his feet and legs so it swishes back and forth. "Speaking of H, how's he doing?"

Louis sighs, looking to the ground, "He's, uh," he starts, soft smile spreading over his face, "he's doing really well, actually. He's talking to a professional."

Zayn's eyes widen, "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Louis grins, "he is."

Zayn shakes his head, "That's- that's fucking _fantastic_ , mate. Holy shit," he says, jumping off his board to wrap Louis in a hug. "So fucking great," he murmurs under his breath, picking Louis up and spinning him in circles.

Louis' thrown over his shoulder, and his board drops to the ground. "Zayn, I swear to go-"

Zayn shuts him up by slapping his arse, "Better hold on tight!"

"No," Louis starts, eyes widening "no, _Zayn!_ Zayn put me down!" Louis screeches, kicking his legs as Zayn steps onto his skateboard and gives it a push.

"You screech like the fucking blonde girl in all the horror films, mate," he takes a wide turn, and he's not even going fast, just fast enough to scare Louis, "it's a bit embarrassing really."

Louis' about to yell again, when he starts to slip off the side of Zayn's shoulder, and he grabs hold of Zayn's back pockets to try and save himself, only to have Zayn squeak and fall backwards. Louis shrieks, letting go of Zayn's arse to put his hands on the grass as he flips over and onto his back, Zayn falling on his bum.

Zayn groans, and then glares when he hears Louis burst into laughter.

"Did you see me?" he screams, "I just flipped! I just did a flip! Off your back!"

Zayn closes his eyes, groaning louder when Louis crawls over to him.

"Harry's gonna find this so hot," Louis whispers excitedly.

"Will you shut up," Zayn whines, sitting up to pull his crushed cig pack out of his back pocket, "now they're all fucking smashed."

Louis sits back on his knees, throwing his hands up in defence. “I told you not to do it."

Zayn makes a mocking face, squeezing the crushed box in his hand to form it into a more box-like form again, before flipping the lid on it.

It only takes a moment for Louis to give in, but once he does, he sighs deeply, holding his hand out to Zayn, "Here, give me some. I'll help you out."

"Better," Zayn mumbles, dumping half of the cigs out and handing them over to Louis.

Louis carefully rolls them between his fingers, trying to de-flat them, but not break the fragile wrap that surrounds them. It only takes a moment, but soon he is looking at them as he rolls them, and the difference is subtle but there, and he's _snorting_ , "Zayn Malik, have you got yourself some spliffs here?"

Zayn glances up through his hair that hangs over his face, smiling wickedly. "Never believe who got the weed for me."

His interest is peaked, and Louis finds his eyes widening as he leans forwards, eyebrows raised, "Yeah? You gonna tell me?"

"Liam," Zayn smirks, stuffing the one that Louis had already reformed and set in the grass back into the box.

"Uh," Louis furrows his eyebrows, "yeah.... okay. Now tell me who really got you some weed."

"M'serious!" Zayn says in defence, his eyes meeting Louis', "one of the patients he got to help nurse grabbed him by the arm before he left the room and slipped him some of his medical stuff, told him something about winding down because he knew he was an intern. I don't know."

"Wait, wait, wait," Louis shakes his head in disbelief, "so a patient slipped Liam some medical weed?"

"Yup," Zayn starts to fix the rest of his cigs and spliffs, and continues, "He even smoked a couple joints with me. But joints go too fast, so I figured I'd just make some spliffs so it'd last longer, y'know?"

Louis snorts. "Such a conservative with your dime bags. Jesus, mate."

Zayn rolls his eyes again, "You want one?" he waggles his eyebrows teasingly, "maybe your Harry would like some."

Louis purses his lips, honest though, "Got any blunts left? I doubt Haz would want your lazy shit."

"Wait," Zayn furrows his eyebrows, "Harry's gotten high before?"

"Uh," Louis starts in a subjective tone, "yeah?”

" _What?_ "

Louis rolls his eyes. "You make him sound like an angel, whilst in reality he's only _my_  angel," Louis clarifies, quickly adding in with a smirk, "my angel who gets to be as naughty as he wants."

"Oh god," Zayn makes a fake puking noise, "never hint at your sex life again, prick."

"Says the little boy who got his pot from his daddy."

Zayn flushes a bright red, looking away. "What would you do if Harry wanted to be a girl?"

Louis gasps playfully, "Trying to change the subject," he tsks, "smooth Malik, _smooth_."

It makes Zayn flush a deeper red, but he still defends himself, "I'm serious!"

Louis shakes his head, smirking. "So what you're asking is what I would do if Harry wanted his bits cut off?"

Zayn nods, finishing his now less mushed and more crinkled box of spliffs and cigs, pulling out a couple that are different from the others and handing them to Louis. Louis pockets the blunts he was handed, and goes back to the question.

"I think," he starts, "that it's his body and he can do what he wants with it," Louis shrugs, "but we've already had this discussion so..." he shrugs again.

"So you've already talked about it, then?"

"Yeah," Louis says, "I asked if he ever wanted to like, where his girl clothes all the time or identify as a girl."

"What'he say?"

"He said no," Louis shrugs, "he says he likes his boy clothes, and his boy bits, and being a boy. Like," Louis pauses, tilting his head, "some of the stuff is a safety net for him, and some of the stuff is more like, a kink? For the both of us, y'know? And then some of it's just, I don't know- cool to him? Like he just likes feminine stuff." Louis shrugs again, adding to his response.

Zayn nods, taking in the information.

"The one painting at your show," Louis starts, biting his lip, "the gender one or whatever, did he inspire that?"

Louis blinks at Zayn, and Zayn smiles. "Uhm, yeah, a bit. I think he just, made me open my eyes a little, y'know? Like, I started to notice things about everyone."

"Harry would be happy to know that I think," Louis says. He lays down in the grass, the bottoms of his shoes against the pavement.

"You can tell him," Zayn murmurs, pulling one of his spliffs out. He lays back in the grass with Louis, putting the spliff between his lips and fishing out his lighter. Both of their skateboards forgotten.

Louis hums, watching Zayn. "Did'you really do the smoking thing?"

Zayn furrows his eyebrows, turning his head into the ground before he realises what Louis is talking about. He takes the unlit spliff from his lips, and nods, "Yeah, I really did. I went like, an entire month without smoking and didn't even notice," he shrugs, "but I kind of just like it, y'know? Like, it’s just relaxing."

Louis nods. "So you’re really don't smoke that much anymore? You use to have to leave class to go smoke in the bathroom in high school."

Zayn laughs whilst lighting his spliff, sitting up just a bit so he can do so properly, before laying back down in the grass. "I know mate, it was bad," he takes a drag, "but yeah. I don't, y'know, have that need to do it anymore, it’s just more of something I want every once in awhile."

Louis simply nods, looking back up to the sky that is turning a navy blue colour, grey swirls in the air from both the clouds and from Zayn's smoking, and he listens to that. A subtle peacefulness falls over him, and he is hit with the overwhelming feeling that everything is going to be really okay.

"Want some?" Zayn asks, pulling Louis from his little trance.

Louis looks over, seeing Zayn holding the half smoked spliff to him, and he shakes his head, "Nah, you gave me some full ones to share with Harry, remember?" Louis smirks, "besides, even though I'm sure Harry is fine with it, wanna make sure with him first."

Zayn laughs, shaking his head. "He really does have you whipped, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," Louis smirks, "just like the way Li whips you at night!"

Zayn chokes. "Louis!" he tries to grab Louis' ankle, but Louis jumps away too fast, his laugh filling the air as he hops on Zayn's skateboard.

"Don't deny it, Zayn!" Louis screams back at him, "don't deny it!"

 

 

( **ix.**

Louis' pinned to the bed, Harry's knees bracketing his hips, and Harry's large hand wrapped around both of Louis' wrists that are above his head. His other hand is up to his face, half-smoked joint between his fingers. His eyes are nearly black, all of his preciously long curls framing his face as he smirks around the object in his mouth. Louis watches him inhale, the beautiful way his smirk gets wider and his eyes close just a sliver.

They're both half naked, Harry grinding his panty clad arse down onto Louis' semi and moaning as he slowly releases the thick smoke from his lungs. Louis' in a trance, an endless, slow trance that is Harry and foggy but mostly just Harry, and he loves it.

Harry carefully holds the blunt between his fingers, and leans down to give Louis a sloppy kiss, small giggle falling from his lips and pressing against Louis'. Then he pulls back again, turning the joint carefully between his fingertips and then pressing the end of it to Louis' thin lips. Louis wraps his lips around the end and closes his eyes as he inhales.

Once he's inhaled enough, he tips his head back against the pillow so his throat is exposed, and Harry presses slow, sloppy kisses there, feeling the tension in Louis' neck with his lips, until Louis begins to let the smoke leave his lips. That's when Harry pulls up and places his mouth over Louis', soaking it all in through the gentle press.

That afternoon Harry fucks Louis nice and slow, gasping ‘ _daddy_ ’ against his lips as Louis clenches around him and he comes so fucking hard inside of him.

The room smells like sex and weed, and Louis runs his fingertips up and down Harry's back as his boy laughs breathlessly in the junction of his neck.)

 

 

**x.**

It's a shiver that rolls up Louis' spine that wakes him up, and it's the absence of warmth beside of him that makes him _sit_  up. The clock flashes a warm, red 3:02 a.m., and Louis' eyelids drip down. He palms them, a short yawn falling from his lips; a breeze ruffles his hair, not cold, but not particularly warm either, and that's when he sees Harry. The balcony doors are wide open, curtains pulled back, and Harry is sitting on the balcony floor, his legs criss-crossed.

His skin is moon-dipped, the soft edges of his shoulder blades creating small shadows down the expanse of his back. His lengthy curls are pulled loosely into a messy bun on the back of his head, a few stray pieces falling all around his face from what Louis can see. Harry is completely naked, aside from a pair of boxers (the ones he pulled off of Louis and threw onto the floor before sucking his cock as a goodnight) that look so big on him compared to his usual choice in bottoms.

Louis blinks, his boy sitting peacefully still in the cool, night air. He considers calling him back to bed, asking if he's okay. He doesn't want to break the night, though, the thin air that surrounds the world at such an early hour. So instead he quietly rolls out of bed, pushing the sheets aside and pressing his bare feet to the cool floor. He doesn't bother putting anything on, instead tip toes across the flooring, tongue pressed to his cheek in a mixed emotion.

The distant city is lit up behind the small patch of trees and park that separates the university life downtown. Yellow fairy lights wrap around the trees that line the pavement, making dim lights cast around the empty life around them. The end of the summer sky is beautiful and clear, moon big as it shines down on them, and the stars glitter throughout the black sky. They're the brightest things in the sky and they make them both feel equally small.

Except then Louis looks down and catches Harry's eyes from where he sits on the floor of the balcony, expression soft and peaceful, and Louis has never looked into anything so luminous.

(He has never felt so big, never felt so important.)

"Hi," Harry breathes, as if staring at Louis is the most breathtaking form of oxygen.

Louis bites his bottom lip, feeling all so exposed with the way Harry's looking in his eyes, like he's conjuring up some purpose for every time he has blinked that led his eyes to his. He feels overwhelmed.

Harry reaches out his hand, touching Louis' bare hip, fingers slowly edging down his bare leg till he is grasping his ankle. "Sit down?" he whispers.

All Louis can manage is a swallow, a quick nod following up his throat. He watches Harry pat at his crissed-crossed legs, and he feels his heart race. When he sits down in Harry's lap, he doesn't just sit down, he curls up, laying his head against Harry's shoulder. Harry wraps his arm around Louis' back and connects both his hands at Louis' naked hip.

Louis meets Harry's eyes to find Harry already looking at him, frown on his lips. "Sorry I took your pants."

He nuzzles Harry's shoulders. "It’s okay," he whispers, looking up at the sky, "it's beautiful out here."

Harry hums in agreement, his arms tightening around Louis' bare form.

"Is that why you're out here?" he murmurs.

Harry sighs deeply, shaking his head. "No," he answers honestly. He pauses, biting his lip, "it has almost been a year."

Louis swallows. "It has, hasn't it?"

"It feels longer," Harry whispers, laying his cheek on top of Louis' head, "I would have never come this far, this fast, without you, y’know."

"Hey," he draws out quietly, biting his lip, "this was all you, Harry. You're the one that made it this far, not me."

"I know, but no one has showed me a love like this before. I'm scared no one else ever will," he confesses honestly.

Louis furrows his eyebrows, lifting his hand to pull Harry's face towards his so their eyes will meet. "Harry, you're the only one I want."

Harry laughs softly, shaking his head whilst tightening his arms around Louis again. "A year."

"It's been good though, right?" Louis asks, worried from Harry's response.

Harry's quiet, staring up at the stars. "I came out here because this is where I caught you staring at me."

Louis' eyebrows line in confusion, watching Harry bite his lip. Harry laughs at his confusion.

"When you came over the very first time," he smiles, "you found a planet and when I went to look in the telescope you were staring at me."

Louis blushes. "You're pretty. I couldn't help it."

"Yeah, well," Harry smiles softly, "that's kind of when I made this split-second decision to trust you."

"I'm glad you did.”  Louis whispers.

"I am too."

Louis sighs, looking back to the sky. "So you were out here because of that?"

"I was out here," Harry says, taking a deep breath, "because lately I've been thinking about how much I want to be boring with you for a really long time."

Harry snickers and Louis follows, rolling his eyes. "C'mon," he whispers, getting up from Harry's lap and then lending a hand down to Harry to help him up, "let's go inside, it's cold out here."

Harry does.

"Go lay down," Louis murmurs softly, closing the balcony doors and only closing the mesh over-lay curtains to allow moonlight into the room. Harry does as told, laying down on his back in the middle of the mattress, his body relaxing on top of the messy duvets and sheets.

Louis makes his way to the bed, soft smile covering his lips. When he gets to the end of the bed, he sits at the edge, picking up Harry's feet. "Your toenails are so pretty," he says sweetly, "I love when you let me paint them, I can't imagine not having days where I do."

Harry furrows his eyebrows, mouth moving to speak, but stopping when Louis leans down and presses gentle kisses over the tips of each toe, fingers rubbing his foot soothingly.

"I love how soft you are," he whispers, tracing his ankles, his fingers dancing up Harry's shaved legs, "do you know how soft you are?"

Harry blinks, shaking his head hesitantly.

"You are," Louis whispers, his hands kneading the soft skin between Harry's thighs, "you're soft here- and here," Louis moves his hands to Harry's sides, squeezing his love handles. "You're really soft here," he murmurs happily, leaning down and kissing over Harry's tummy, "and you're also soft here," he whispers, lips trailing up Harry's torso to his neck to his face, which he cups carefully in his hands.

"What're you doing?" Harry breathes, eyes bright as they meet Louis'.

"I'm telling you how much I love you," Louis says, "and how much I love your softness. Especially the softness," Louis moves his hand over Harry's heart- not even cringing at how cliché it is, because clichés happen for a reason- and he whispers, "here."

Harry bites his lip, laying limp as Louis carefully adjusts himself so he is lying next to Harry, his head on his shoulder again and an arm wrapped around his stomach to grab Harry's and lay them there.

"I love your laugh- even the obnoxious one- and I love how one of your dimples is deeper than the other."

Harry smiles finally, big and wide, and Louis can't help how he reflects it right back.

"You're goodhearted, and strong, and exactly everything I need."

"You get so cheesy early in the morning," Harry whispers, grinning nonetheless.

"Shut up, not finished yet," Louis whispers back, pausing to place a kiss on Harry's smiling lips.

"You make me proud every day," he kisses it into his cheek, down his jaw, "make me smile every day."

Harry groans, Louis starting to pepper sloppy kisses all over his face.

" _Lou_ ," he drags out, trying to bat the affectionate boy away.

Louis grabs his face in his hands, pressing a big, sloppy kiss right to Harry's lips, pulling away with a loud, dramatic smack. He flops back down to Harry's chest with a mock-exhausted sigh, his ear pressing to the place Harry's heart thrums through his chest.

"You're gross," Harry laughs, intertwining their fingers. Louis tsks, though, and takes Harry's hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing each fingertip.

"Love your thumb when it rubs circles into my thigh," Louis emphasis with a kiss, "love this finger here because it's the one you accuse me with."

Harry snorts, _loud_ , his head being thrown back in laughter, and Louis decidedly kisses it extra hard.

"This finger- oh, I think the paints chipped, will have to fix that tomorrow," Louis interrupts himself, kissing the nail softly, "this finger," he starts again, "I love when it's flipping me off. Nothing's hotter than my boy telling me to fuck off."

Harry snorts again, his chest rumbling with silly laughter that makes Louis' grin widen.

He skips the fourth finger, and goes to the pinky, "This little guy is magical, and I love when you do the Dr. Evil impression and press it to your lips," Louis snickers at himself at that, adding in, "I also like the way it always reaches out for mine when we aren't holding hands.”

Louis kisses the pinky and pushes it down to add to the fist he is making, leaving only one finger standing. Louis runs his finger around the root of that one finger, listening to Harry's heart beat faster and faster, chest a mountain his heart is trying to climb. He brings the finger to his mouth, lips whispering against the base of the finger, "and I love this finger,” he breathes softly, _seriously_ , "because one day, this is where I am going to put a wedding ring."

 

 

**xi.**

_This is how it goes:_

It is a burning desire, a flame unquenchable; lips get chapped from pressing to lips too long, throats choke on the dark fumes rising up. It leaves skin charred to the bone - bones brittle, ready to snap - they snap under their weight - their weight, _them_ , Louis and Harry. Breaking synapses and bad memories into laughter - they're building temples out of it. It hurts, _of course_ it hurts. It has to hurt, to ache. Hearts, beaten and bruised, pounded into by some undefined amount of careless, unclean hands. Giving goods away when the debt is still present in the wreckage.

Its drum still throbs inside of ribs, love fluttering to life, and it still hurts. It hurts really fucking bad, but it's the kind of hurt no one regrets, the kind you would let batter you until the end, it’s great. It's the equivalence to intoxication, and being too sober, and the crippling pain the first heartbreak gives. But the difference is, it's worth it. Because despite the feeling of someone ripping a hole into your chest, you have never felt fuller.

Louis loves Harry _anyways_ , and Harry loves Louis _anyways_. Because amongst all that really _good_ hurt is this overwhelming emotion. A pride that comes with all of the temples made out of words that were spit, and all the spit that licked its way into mouths to take away words that should have been heard.

 

_That feeling is this:_

They stand beside each other, the door feet away, but the sign is like headlights to their eyes. Louis tears his eyes from it to look at Harry, who is already looking at him.

"Ready?" Louis asks quietly.

Harry bites his lip, and nods.

They both reach for each other's hands at the same time, fingers clasping in a firm lock, eyes glued to the large sign still.

 

_Wakefield Treatment Centre for Trauma and Abuse_

 

Louis takes in a deep breath for both of them, and they walk inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pssst. there's another little sequel. pls go read it :-)
> 
> snapchat/tumblr: wankerville

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry.
> 
> (p.S. harry and louis arent married yet in this. i forgot to clarify lmao. but yeah. NOt married yet.)
> 
> please comment and kudos so i know how you guys feel.  
> thanks a honey-bunch-of-oats amount for reading. 
> 
> tumblr: wankerville  
> snapchat: wankerville  
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://wankerville.tumblr.com/)


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